


A Different Kind of Blade

by fw_feathers (mia826)



Category: Bleach
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Original Character(s), Self Insert Week 2016, Self-Insert, Transgender, Worldbuilding, gratuitous use of headcanons, i like world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2018-06-07 17:23:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6816544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mia826/pseuds/fw_feathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Misplaced souls have been around since before the construction of Soul Society. Not much research has been done on them. The current working hypothesis was that, due to the natural entropy of the universe, some souls can end up in bodies that didn’t match their intended form or function during reincarnation." </p>
<p>Like, say, me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Void

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am a cis female and have no transgender friends. Any depictions of body dysphoria or transgender issues are based on how I would react in that situation and from internet research. If I portray anything incorrectly or write something offensive, please inform me so I can correct it immediately.

_Hurts. Lonely. Dark. Scared._

:?:

_Where? Mommy… scared._

:!:

_Don’t leave me…_

:here:

_?!_

:here:

_What?_

:here!:

_Can’t… scared…_

:here:

:not alone:

:not scared.:

_But… that’s_ yours.

:here!:

_At least… tell me. Why?_

:…:

:want to:

:lonely:

… _Me too._


	2. Awakening

Ichigo wasn’t sure when he’d started knowing he was different. Whenever he tried to look back, he could only recall a feeling of wrongness, like he was too big for his body and everything fit all wrong. It made him clumsy in his young age, and prone to crying easily. His temper fluctuated, going from easily pleased to furious, wailing tantrums that left his parents confused, frantic, and sleepless for the night.

He liked karate class. His mother had suggested it, hoping it would give him an outlet for his pent-up energy. The first few days were a nightmare, Ichigo lashing out at his opponents and reveling in the rush of freedom and glee in every punch and kick he doled out. It was only when a little girl with black hair as spiky as his kicked him to the ground that he got the reality check he needed- and with it, a new rival. Tatsuki’s win forced him to learn to control himself, to think and strike with intention rather than just throwing his limbs about. He went home exhausted everyday, but there was always either a feeling of accomplishment or a drive to improve when he did.

The thing inside him settled around then, grudgingly at first, then went limp altogether. It made him sad, and he didn’t know why. That time of his life was marked by fits of weeping in the early hours of morning, and constantly seeking comfort in his puzzled mother. He gained a sudden, abject terror of being left alone, and refused to go anywhere without a companion when he used to be so proud of walking home alone.

He befriended Tatsuki one day when a bunch of boys tried to pick on her for being such a tomboy. He came to her defense so vehemently that he’d surprised everyone there, including himself. The next day, Tatsuki beat his ass into the mat as per usual, and he gave her as good as he got right back. Afterward, she eyed him with the kind of intensity only children could have, then held out her hand and said, “You don’t suck so bad… for a boy.”

He told his mom all about it with a black eye, a split lip, and a toothy grin on the way back home. She smiled, patted him on the head, then asked him what he felt about getting a new little sister.

He ended up with two sisters, and he loved them to death. Now, on his walks home, he would drag his mom into bookstores and toy shops and point excitedly at everything, asking if they could get this for Karin, or that for Yuzu, or something for them both. He loved going to the clothing stores the most, picking out blues and greens and monstrous looking dresses that seemed to be made of more ruffle than skirt. His mom would always look at him oddly, but humored him nonetheless, nodding at some of his choices and telling him what a good big brother he was. Those words always made him frown momentarily, because it would bring back to the forefront that wrongness he never stopped feeling, but he always smiled in the end for the praise.

Tatsuki would sometimes come over and help him watch the twins. They took turns choosing what kind of pretend games to play, like playing house for Yuzu, ghost stories for Karin, and epic battles with Tatsuki. They all looked forward to the times when Dad was available, because he was always happy to play the big bad monster of the day- and he always made a great one too. Mom would come home to the sounds of shrieking children, trying to save Yuzu-hime from the Scary Beard Oni without falling into the hot lava below. She’d smile, and cover her mouth while she laughed, before bringing out the groceries and cooking them all her signature batch of cheese-and-chicken curry.

His parents loved him, his little sisters adored him, and he had a friend who would beat him up then beat up whoever tried to do it for her. So, despite the constant itch between his legs and the odd moods he’d still get, Ichigo’s life was pretty great.

Until one day he saw a small girl in white while walking home by the river.

His hand was already loosening in his mother’s grip and his feet were stepping forward to save the girl. _Too close, she’s too close to the river, mom always said to stay away from the river when it rained-_

Then something seemed to slam into him from the inside, screaming at him to **_[stop]_** _,_ and to **_[look you stupid boy]_** _,_ and again, **_[look!]_**

Ichigo, out of shock more than anything, stopped and _looked._ He looked, and saw something vague and furry behind the girl standing too close to the roaring river. The blurry thing made him feel queasy, made his stomach churn and his heartbeat go loud in his ears. Then the voice told him to **_[run]_** , so he tightened his grip on his mom’s hand and tried to drag her away.

She looked at him, then looked at the girl, then she let go of his hand, pushed him behind her and told him to **_run._** It frightened Ichigo, poor, small Ichigo, because he’d never seen his mom looked so scared. The memory would stay in his mind long after the event. He would never see her look so scared again.

Masaki Kurosaki died shielding her son from an unknown attacker and left her family reeling in her wake. The boy especially was inconsolable, having witnessed the attack. Trauma made him lose the memory but retain the terror and guilt from having survived.

The funeral was small. Masaki hadn’t been on good terms with her family, and all of Isshin’s relatives were dead. Tatsuki’s family attended, and so did a tall man with glasses that nobody seemed to know. Everyone was silent. The family looked numb — the boy, hollow-eyed; the twins, uncomprehending still; and the father, a shadow of himself, behind them.

It was only when Ichigo looked down on his mother’s grave that he realized two things:

One, she was not Ichigo Kurosaki. And two, she had not been able to save their mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand ADKoB is officially started!! I told myself I wouldn't upload anything until I at least finish typing the chapter where Rukia comes in, but then I discovered Self Insert Week and I thought, who cares, I gotta get in on that!
> 
> I'll still follow my original plan in regards with uploading on ff.net. As for this one, I'll probably update by next week, after my exams finish. Consider the first two chapters as a preview of what's to come, hahaha!


	3. Initiative

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should not have said next week. For that I profusely apologize.

Waking up from death was hard. Imagine being a nine year old child, innocent and free, then all of a sudden you’re a twenty year old woman (twenty nine?) with a whole life behind you, except- nothing has changed. You’re still, physically, a nine year old boy. Your entire world has just fallen apart around you, but the world itself just. Keeps. Turning.

I must have spent weeks just trying to sort everything out. Waking up, getting out of bed, walking into a silent dining table and living off take-out after years of home-cooked meals… it was almost more than I could stand. All of a sudden I had all this information, all these memories Ichigo never experienced. Every morning I opened my eyes and looked out at the world through the eyes of the main character of a story I used to follow. Every evening I went to bed knowing I was just adding to the stress, the worry, and the sadness drowning my entire family. (My family? His? Ours?)

It was hilarious. It was crazy. It wasn’t… _didn’t_ feel _real._

Had I always been Ichigo? Or had Ichigo always been me? Where did the ‘I’ start and the ‘Ichigo’ end? It’s like having two sets of memories. I remembered being a clueless child, missing something horribly and feeling wrong in my own body. But now that I looked back, I knew it was me mourning the life I used to have and feeling discomfort in the body that wasn’t mine. 

I think I went a little insane, during those days. Wondering if it was all a dream, and I would wake up in a hospital bed and laugh about being the main character of a TV show in my coma. Or maybe it was the other way around, where I would wake up in my bed, Dad would wake me up by throwing my door open with a bang, and Mom would be downstairs laughing as we argued on the way to breakfast. 

In the end, it was Karin and Yuzu who saved me.

One day I woke up, went to school, and came back home, only to find Yuzu howling and screaming on the dining room floor. Karin was screaming right back, tears streaming down her cheeks as she stood over her twin. Dad was left kneeling on the floor between them, frantically trying to barter peace and quiet.

I’m not sure how long I stood there, staring. Dad looked up and jerked in surprise. “Ichigo-?” His expression looked hopeful, but there was a sense of desperation in it too, as if there was a part of him that didn’t want to hope, and yet it was all he had left.

This wasn’t the cheerful Dad I knew. It wasn’t the strong, hardworking father I knew either. It was just the look of a man at the end of his rope, with shadowed eyes and new wrinkles that were supposed to be laugh lines, but weren’t. To the left lay dear, shy, quiet Yuzu, on her back and kicking her feet, screaming, “ _I want mommy! I want mommy!_ ”, again and again and again. To the right stood Karin, cheeky, clingy, mischievous Karin screaming at the sister she loved the most just to drown her screams out.

It pulled me out of my manic obsession. The whole montage felt more unreal to me than the many years I remembered spending as a woman, and I clung to that with everything I had.

Did it matter if I was Ichigo or not? Did it matter who I used to be? I was all they had now, and they couldn’t afford to lose me, or the kid they thought of as Ichigo, too. 

I may not have been Ichigo Kurosaki, but I was going to be the best Ichigo I could be, for their sake if not for anything else.

I could cry over my own family, my old family later. I could cry over the life I lost and the boy who died on the riverbank with his mother later. For now, this was what I had. And I had to make do. For them, if not for anything else.

Because, despite all the years I remembered of my old life… This family was my family too.

Without a word, I turned around and walked away. I could see Dad’s face crumbling at the corner of my eye, expecting me to go straight upstairs like I always did for the past few days. Instead, I turned right and entered the kitchen, dropping my bag on the floor and clambering onto the counter. I reached up with my stubby kiddie arms and opened the cabinet I’d seen Mom open hundreds of times. 

By the time I finished making the tea, Yuzu and Karin had stopped screaming, though they were both crying now. They had passed the point of wailing and made it to the tired, hiccuping sobs that were somehow worse than the screaming before. Dad just sat there and held them, murmuring words I couldn’t hear while his eyes stayed on the family photo on the table in the corner.

He looked up when my socked feet scuffed on our wooden floor. His eyes widened, landing on the trembling tray of tea in my tiny nine year old hands. Yuzu and Karin, disturbed by his sudden silence, looked up as well.

“I-Ichi-nii?” Yuzu sniffled, rubbing tears away from her eyes.

We stared at each other for several moments, just taking in the sight of each other. I opened my mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. My lower lip began to wobble. I bit it and tried harder.

“M-mom wouldn’t… wouldn’t want us to…” Dad’s face fell, and he held out his hand for me as well, but I shook my head and stubbornly kept on going, fighting rubber lips and shaking baby hands. “She wouldn’t want us… to _cry_.” I gasped out the last word, before bursting into tears. It was all I could do to keep the tray from falling to the floor. It was shaking and spilling enough as it was. 

I could blame the tears on my childish body. But I _knew_ Masaki. I was there too, all the years she held us together. In a way, she raised me too. The sadness and mourning was real, and it was mine.

“Ichi-nii…” Karin’s face scrunched up, and then she was bawling again. Yuzu followed soon after. Soon our sobs merged into one miserable cacophony, filling the room with the sound of mourning.

One extra large sob from me almost knocked one of the tea cups over. Large hands took the tray from me, before pulling me close, until Dad had all of us curled up under his chin. I sat on his lap with my face pressed into his shoulder. Yuzu was curled up beneath me, burying her sobs in my stomach and Dad’s chest. Karin clung to her other side, one hand clamped on Dad’s shirt and the other around Yuzu’s sleeve.

“Ichigo’s right.” His voice rumbled by my ear. “Kaa-san wouldn’t want us to be sad, not like this. So we’re going to cry, one last time, okay? And then we’ll be happy.” Dad reached up and started stroking through my hair. “We’re going to do our best, and work hard to be happy, because that’s what Kaa-san would want. Alright?” I nodded, soaking his shirt a little more in the process. Yuzu hiccuped, but I felt her nod. From Dad’s deep sigh, Karin must have nodded too. 

“One last cry.” Dad murmured it under his breath, as if he was only saying it to himself. I tightened my grip on him and pretended the tears I could feel by my ear were only mine.


	4. Brother

Yasutora first met Ichigo during their second year of middle school. He had been looking for a place to eat lunch, when a quiet, “Hey,” drew his attention. If it weren’t for his bright orange hair, Yasutora doubted he would have been able to recognize Ichigo that day. He felt befuddled enough when this boy he didn’t know held up a bento and asked, “Want to eat lunch together?”

At first he thought Ichigo was yet another schoolyard bully, leading him someplace quiet for an ambush and a quick beating down. His bleached hair - he hadn’t known it was natural, then - _did_ give him a rebellious sort of air. Even in Mexico, the only people Yasutora had known with that color were part of a gang, and wore them proudly because of it. But Ichigo just led him to the back of the school under the shade of a small tree and sat down to, well, eat lunch.

“People avoid this place because the trashcans are nearby.” Ichigo jerked his thumb at the aforementioned bins a few feet away. “But the smell isn’t actually that bad since the cafeteria dumps their trash in the afternoon anyway.” He waved his hand in an obvious invitation to sit. “It’s quiet, and no one ever thinks to look here.”

Yasutora hesitated for a moment, then folded his legs and settled down with care. “Why are you telling me this?”

Ichigo paused, then shrugged, unwrapping his bento with unnecessary fervor. “You looked like you wanted someplace quiet to go,” he said at last.

Yasutora didn’t have anything to say to that, so he unwrapped his sandwich and ate it in silence. He could see Ichigo glancing at him from the corner of his eye. He was used to that, so he ignored it.

“And… well…” Ichigo frowned at his unopened bento. “I guess I got tired of eating alone too.”

Yasutora didn’t know what to say to that either.

They spent a few minutes in silence, with Yasutora pulling apart his sandwich and Ichigo drumming his fingers on his bento. He wouldn’t stop glancing at Yasutora, little peeks from behind bangs that brushed across his forehead. “So, hey,” he blurted, obviously uncomfortable with the silence. “Want me to make you a bento?”

Yasutora stared at him. A red blush slowly worked its way up Ichigo’s face, contrasting interestingly with his hair. “…That came out _so_ wrong.” He groaned and slammed his head against his lunch. “Crap.”

“You made that?” Yasutora finally asked, nodding towards the box in Ichigo’s hands. Ichigo shrugged again, his hunched posture only serving to show just how far down his neck his blush went. He opened the box and showed Yasutora, avoiding his eyes the whole time. It was a simple rice and fish meal, with seasoning sprinkled over the round-shaped rice, and fish shredded around it like a freckled sun. Tucked into the side were triangle-shaped carrots and chopped string beans.

“Dad earns the money, Yuzu tackles the laundry, Karin cleans the house, and I handle the food.” Ichigo picked at his pizza carrots, his eyes glazed over and looking elsewhere. “I cut Karin and Yuzu’s - my sisters - into stars,” he explained, picking one up to show what he was talking about. “I try to make theirs all cute and pretty, so they have something to show off at school. Then I eat whatever’s left.” Ichigo put down the carrot and nodded towards Yasutora’s sandwich. “If you ever get tired of _konbini_ lunches, I can whip up something for you too.”

Yasutora sat back, curiosity and suspicion silencing whatever reply he might have made. He could fend for himself, well enough. But for a stranger to offer something like that…

Yasutora appreciated silence and solitude. For so long it was just him and his _abuelo_ , holding their own in the streets of Mexico. Yasutora had gone back to Japan because there was nothing for him in Mexico anymore… but it didn’t take that long for him to wonder what there was for him in Japan either.

It never occurred to him it was something he had to find.

“Why?” he asked again. “We’ve just met.”

The scowl on Ichigo’s face was more sincere than any he displayed in the classroom, embarrassed flush notwithstanding. “Exactly why it came out wrong,” he muttered, stabbing his fish like it had personally insulted him. He looked up as a thought occurred to him, then directed his narrowed eyes at his seatmate. “Unless you’ve got something against guys cooking?” he demanded, his grip on his chopsticks tightening.

Ironically, Ichigo’s defensiveness made Yasutora relax a little. Kindness, he didn’t know well, but hostility was something he was familiar with. It made the day feel more… well, real. “No,” he said, keeping his voice calm and his posture non-threatening. (It wasn’t easy- his very bulk made him look threatening, no matter what he did.) “I cook.”

Ichigo’s eyebrows shot up. He gaped, mouth working as he processed that information. Then his eyes zeroed in on the remains of Yasutora’s sandwich and gave the owner a disbelieving look.

Yasutora had to fight down a smile. “A little.”

Ichigo noticed the quirk in his lips and smiled as well, the beam spreading like sunshine across his face. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

They ended up talking about the plus and minuses of buying food over making paella and tacos until the school bell rang.

* * *

Ichigo was like a vine creeping his way into Chad’s life. He wasn’t always available for lunch. There were times when he would stay back at the classroom, gruffly helping someone with their math; or go and visit his friend Tatsuki in another class. But sometimes Chad would open the door to the back of the school and find him already there, bento box in hand and another waiting on the ground beside him. Slowly, the lunches became more frequent. They started pairing up for class. Soon Ichigo would join him walking home from school.

It was inevitable that they’d stumble into a fight together.

“Oi, Yamato. Looks like you’re moving up in the world, eh?” Chad grunted from within the circle of limbs around him. Trust Ichigo to arrive with the worst timing. It was past time for class, and the route Chad took to school was out of Ichigo’s way. Had he gone looking for him when he hadn’t arrived? “Instead of beating on people smaller than you, you’re beating on people bigger than you. Takes guts; congratulations.” The sarcasm in his voice was as dry as fallen leaves in autumn. It was like adding kindling to a fire.

The beating stopped. Every thug turned their eyes to the new boy in their midst, narrow and spiteful. Their leader — a punk with his ponytail bleached blond and a ring in his nose — sneered at Ichigo. “What’s that? Some puny kid looking for trouble?” His fingers twitched, hanging like claws ready to turn back into fists.

Ichigo didn’t look impressed, from the little Chad could see of him. He stood, legs spread evenly, with his arms crossed and his frown more intense than anything Chad had seen before. He ignored the fair-headed punk, his brown eyes zeroing in on Chad’s own. “You alright, Chad?”

_“It’s Sado.”_

_“Right, right, sorry, keep forgetting. …Hey Chad, how do you do this kanji?”_

_“…”_

(In the end, it stuck.)

Chad opened his mouth to reply, but another thug cut him off with a punch to the face. He let the force swing his head to the side, going with the flow instead of fighting it. He ended up spitting on someone’s pants, but at least he didn’t lose a tooth. The wetness on his cheek let him know how deep the boy’s brass knuckles had gone. “Hey! Don’t ignore our boss!” Brass Knuckles yelled, waving his shiny accessory around.

Chad saw Ichigo’s gaze harden into something… deadly.

“You’ll regret doing that,” he said, his cheerful tone at contrast with the smooth way he unfolded from his casual stance.

“Just ‘coz you won against a bunch of us once-” Nose Ring started. Ichigo didn’t let him finish.

Three steps was all it took. Ichigo ducked under an outstretched hand and sent a fist rocketing towards Nose Ring’s jawline. The punk’s head flew back with a painful-sounding crack. The boy toppled.

There was a single moment of frozen silence as everyone processed what just happened. Then, Brass Knuckles roared.

_“He hit Boss!”_

The gang threw themselves at Ichigo.

Chad rose to his feet then, a tiger rising from its rest. His punches were as powerful as the tiger’s jaws, dropping enemies left and right. He would not raise a fist to defend himself, but the moment the gang turned on Ichigo was the moment he could turn on them. He knocked them down, one, two, before one got a lucky hit on his already bruised ribs and drove him to one knee. His grunt of pain was lost in the goon’s victory cry. The boy raised his clasped hands to deliver a staggering blow to Chad’s head. Chad raised his arms to defend — too slow, this was going to hurt — then Ichigo was there, slamming a kick at the goon’s face. The poor guy flew at the alley wall with a muffled scream of pain.

“Fucking piece of shit,” Ichigo swore, fury twisting his expression into molten stone. Chad shook his head, both to shake off the pain and the harsh words he’d never heard from the carrot-top before. Without another word, he grabbed Ichigo by the nearest arm — “Hey!” he yelped — and yanked him out of the way of an ambitious iron pipe.

Ichigo blinked. “…Thanks,” he said, after a pause, then ducked under Chad’s arm and loosed another painful-looking uppercut on the pipe-holder’s jaw.

“No problem,” Chad replied.

They fought well together, for two people who hadn’t done so before. Chad could see the formal training in the way Ichigo moved — the way he seemed to dance, constantly shifting weight, how he ducked around an attack and shifted with ease into a counter. Chad moved the way he knew how to move — dodging what he could, taking what he couldn’t, and using his fists to dole out devastating hits on his opponents. Together they watched each other’s backs, blocking what attackers they could and trusting the other to hit what they couldn’t.

It wasn’t long before every gang member was measuring their length across the ground. Neither of them had gotten away unscathed. Chad’s bleeding cheek and the swelling around Ichigo’s eye attested to that. But they had won.

Ichigo didn’t look so sure.

“… _Dammit!_ ” He lashed out at a stray can, his kick sending it crashing against the alley wall. It rebounded with a loud clang into one of the thugs, eliciting a small whimper. Ichigo whirled around, his brown eyes still blazing, the fire still unsatiated. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, aching to fly and hurt and release. “I wasn’t going to fight; I was just going to talk them down, I _swear_ , but then that guy hit you and-” He broke off, turning on Chad like a hurricane. “And he _hurt_ you. Are you okay? You’re bleeding; we have to get that looked at, it could get infected-” He raised his hands towards Chad, as if to grasp his face. Chad jerked back on instinct, restoring the personal space Ichigo had unwittingly intruded upon. The boy froze.

“…Ichigo.” Chad eyed him warily, unsure of how to react to the frantic light in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Ichigo stared at him, shock guttering the flames in his eyes. He blinked, then recoiled, wrapping his arms around himself and taking several steps back. He turned his head away, refusing to meet Chad’s eyes. Only the pained wheeze from a stepped-on stomach stopped him from retreating further.

Chad resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably. There was a different light in Ichigo’s eyes now, more of frustrated than furious, and suspiciously… wet. A muscle in his cheek twitched, betraying clenched teeth.

“I hate it,” he blurted, just when Chad thought of taking back his question. “I hate fighting. I hate it when I have to hurt people because they _just. Aren’t. Listening._ And I know it’s not my fault and that I have to defend myself, but they make me so _mad-_ ” He breaks off, turning his back on Chad and dropping his hands to curl them into fists at his side. He stood there, breathing hard, fingers clenching and unclenching like a heartbeat as he strove to calm down. He took a deep breath, then sighed, letting all the tension seep from his body in one _whoosh._ “People are stupid,” he said at last, his head tilted back and his voice bordering on a whine.

Chad let himself smile where Ichigo couldn’t see him. For someone who said to hate fighting so much, he was very good at it. But then, wasn’t he the same? This body that he let others hurt as much as they wished… hadn’t it dealt out its own share of hurts as well?

His eyes strayed to the bodies littering the ground.

“Why didn’t you fight back?” Ichigo said suddenly, whirling around to face him. Startled, Chad looked up, meeting the brown eyes that never seemed to stop burning with different kinds of fire. “You could have beaten them without me. Not easily, but you could’ve. So why?”

His hand rose towards his neck without his prompting. He let his fingers brush the medallion there, then dropped them. “I promised my _abuelo_ ,” he said at last. “I won’t swing a fist for myself anymore. I only fight to protect others.” It was his own concession, of sorts. Ichigo had shared something with him — a secret, a weakness, something he felt he had to hide. It was only right for him to share something of his own, even something as simple as his fighting creed.

Ichigo’s eyes narrowed. “…Right. Not even to defend yourself, huh?” Chad nodded. He scowled, crossing his arms and tapping his foot as he thought. Chad was ready to defend his belief, or accept the barrage of questions he was sure would come quickly, but Ichigo just huffed and placed his hands on his waist. “Then I’ll do it,” he declared. His foot tapped out a jittery rhythm on the ground, and his face was a blotchy red, but he forged on. “I’ll fight for you, Chad. If you won’t do it for yourself, then I’ll do it for you. And you can do it for me too,” he tacked on, the words coming out faster and faster. “Like, so I don’t have to fight anymore. We can fight for each other, right? And what you fight for, I fight for. And what I fight for, you fight for- get it?” Ichigo stuck out his chin and looked at him head on.

Chad stared.

Ichigo twitched.

…He would have looked more imposing if his face wasn’t so red.

 _“(Oh God that was so stupid)_ Please ignore me forget I said anything ( _How the hell do shounen protagonists get away with these kinds of speeches?!)_ Let me just find someplace I can dig myself a hole and _die-_ ” Ichigo slapped his hands over his face and groaned. Chad could hear him muttering under his breath in a mix of Japanese and, surprisingly, English (that’s right, Ichigo was good at English, wasn’t he?) as he leaned his forehead against the nearest wall and cursed his existence. Chad felt his lips stretch into a smile… then drop.

He’d meant it, hadn’t he? In all that awkwardness and borderline theatrical words hid a sincerity that Chad couldn’t deny. Sure, the way he’d said it was weird, but… Ichigo had meant it when he said he’d fight for him. Ichigo had all but declared them brothers, with a promise of support that had no expiration date.

Chad gripped the coin hanging from his neck. Did he know? Surely, Ichigo knew that this meant fighting every gang and every bully that turned their eyes his way. This boy who had confessed to hating fights had promised to fight them for him. Chad wasn’t even fooled by his concession. If Chad entered a fight for Ichigo, nothing would stop Ichigo from joining him. ( _”…but then that guy hit you, and- and he_ hurt _you.”_ )

What, Chad wondered, did Ichigo have, that made him so ready to give himself up for others? Whether it was his time, or his comfort, it didn’t matter to him. There was just something in him that wanted to _help._

Chad realized he respected that.

“I’ll do it.” Ichigo’s head snapped up. He turned to Chad, eyes wide. Chad smiled. “I’ll do it,” he repeated. “I’ll fight for you, Ichigo.”

Relief spread across Ichigo’s face faster than a blooming firework. His grin stretched wide, lighting up his face usually marred by a scowl. “And I’ll fight for you!” He raised his hand towards Chad — an open palm. “Promise?”

Chad nodded. “Promise,” he agreed.

They clasped on it.

That also happened to be the day Chad met Ichigo’s family for the first time.

_“(I can’t believe that fucking worked…)”_

_“Did you say something, Ichigo?”_

_“Nothing! Nothing, Chad, don’t mind me- Oh hey would you look at that we’re at my place now! DAD, YUZU, KARIN, I NEED MEDICAL ASSISTANCE-”_

It also wouldn’t be the last time they visited the family clinic to be treated.

* * *

 

“Why?” Chad asked, later, when the exclamations had died down and the well-meaning reprimands were over, and they were finally left alone in Ichigo’s room. Ichigo twitched, stopping halfway through a nervous rant about his father and jumping and _lucky I didn’t lash out with suppressed violence sooner,_ god, _dad._ The orange-haired boy turned to him, his brown eyes dark and intense under his semi-permanent scowl.

He smiled, a bitter edge turning down the corner of his mouth. Somehow, he didn’t need to ask what Chad was talking about. “No one should feel like they deserve to be hurt. And no one should feel like they don’t deserve to be rescued.”

Chad fell silent. He studied Ichigo, peering at him from behind his long bangs. Ichigo stared at the corner of his room, his eyes gazing somewhere distant. That was the first of the many times he thought of Ichigo as an old soul. That absent-minded look on his face seemed to age him by at least a decade.

“Did you ever feel like you deserve to be hurt, Ichigo?”

Ichigo jerked. Yanked out of the distant place he had gone, he turned to Chad again, mouth falling open. “I-” He trailed off, gaping at the darker-skinned boy. “Well, I…” He looked down, rubbed the top of his head, looked up, then turned away. “Yeah,” he said at last. “Before.”

They quieted again, both of them lost in their own thoughts. The mild frenzy Ichigo moved with dissipated, leaving him still and silent, leaning against his desk as he thought. Chad looked up, and spoke one last time.

“Then you don’t deserve it either,” he told his new friend.

Ichigo stared. A chuckle bubbled to his lips. He burst out laughing, a little disbelievingly, covering his eyes with one hand as he tried to bring himself together. He ended up laughing so hard he had to sit beside Chad on his bed. And if Chad noticed his laughter getting choked, he didn’t say anything about it.

_“Thanks.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am never promising an upload date, ever again. I'm so, so sorry. This chapter is a bit of a mess, which is also the reason I took so long - I kept telling myself I'd fix it, but never got around to doing more than a few minor edits here and there. Hope this is enough.


	5. Worlds

Orihime could still remember the day she met Ichigo. It was her first new school year after her brother died. It had been nerve-wracking to enroll herself into school, but she’d touched the clips in her hair and did her best to be brave. ( _Have to be strong, have to take care of myself for brother…_ ) The teachers were very helpful, even if they kept shooting her those sad, pitying looks that only served to make Orihime feel worse. So she smiled her brightest and bounced from office to office, humming cheerfully all the way.

It was her first day of high school. She was excited to meet new people - new people that would, hopefully, have no idea about her orphan status and treat her just like any other girl their age. She’d already met a likely candidate, named Chizuru Honshou. She acted like she had enough energy to keep up with Orihime on her silliest days, and with her love of gossip was an overflowing bounty of information. Orihime decided she liked her… even if her hugs were, ah, a _wee_ bit enthusiastic for her taste. They were in the middle of a conversation about the benefits of eggplant with balsamic vinegar and hot sauce over regular grilled eggplants (”But Chizuru-chan, that’s not creative at _all!_ ”) when Orihime realized that all the other conversations in the room had trailed away.

Chizuru raised her head to see what all the commotion was about (” _What? Is the teacher there already?”_ ) - and gasped.

Orihime whirled around to find herself staring into teriyaki-brown eyes.

The boy stood slouched against the classroom door, lanky and tall in the way boys going through puberty were and looking like he hated every second of it. The thunderous scowl on his face was enough to silence anyone who met his gaze. (Considering he was currently surveying the room, that explained a lot.) But what really drew Orihime was the spiky orange strands hanging proudly from the new boy’s head.

 _He’s… like me,_ she realized with surprise. Like her, with hair the color of mandarins and oranges and papayas and- huh, was there anything orange-colored that wasn’t a fruit?

She bit back a squeak as the boy met her gaze again, his brow furrowing even further as he caught sight of her own sunset-bright hair. (Yay! Not a fruit!) Was he mad? Did he think she tried to copy his hairdo, even if she’d never met him before? What would she look like with spiky orange hair? She tilted her head and squinted at him, trying to imagine them trading hairdos. A smile lit up her face, and she had to bite back a giggle. No, definitely no spiky hair for her.

The boy’s eyebrows rose a little in surprise.

“Ichigo.” A deep voice interrupted their impromptu staring contest. “You’re in the way.”

“Oh.” The boy turned around and backed away from the door, letting his companion in with him. “Sorry ‘bout that, Chad.”

Orihime tilted her head. Ichigo-kun, huh? So, he was named after a fruit! Funny, his hair wasn’t red enough to be anywhere even close to strawberries. Her hair was _much_ redder. The boy who came in after Ichigo was much, much, _much_ taller though! Distracted from her train of thought, Orihime looked up… and up, and up. The pair were making their way through the back of the class towards the seats by the windows. The one Ichigo called Chad opened his mouth, as if to protest, then thought better of it and just sighed. Orihime had never seen anyone like him before. He was a whole head taller than Ichigo, who was already pretty tall himself. His skin and hair was the color of her backyard after it rained, and his arms looked as big as Mucho Rucho Man’s from TV! Yes, in fact, if she squinted a little and tilted her head to the side, she could almost see… Chad? with a neon bright mask and tattoos over his arms and chest…

Whispers erupted all over the room as the boys crossed its length and chose their seats. Orihime could hear her classmates hissing about the rumors on Ichigo and Chad, Chizuru somehow talking to her and two other girls at the same time.

“I’ve heard about them! They say they got kicked out of their old school for beating up half of the karate team!”

“Pssh, no way. I’ve seen that team, they’re _huge!_ No way they could have done it.”

“All _I_ know is that they’re delinquents! They beat up Ooshima!”

“Well, he sure looks the part.”

That last comment was true. Ichigo glared at the room like he was could set it on fire by willpower alone. He was tall, and well-built in a way that broadened his shoulders but didn’t make him look bulky. Orihime could imagine him in a leather jacket and long, swept-back hair. Ooh, and piercings! Silver ones… on his lip, ear, and eyebrow! He could have a bike too, those big, roaring ones she often saw on her favorite nighttime dramas.

“Alright, alright, settle down everyone!” The class president clapped his hands, breaking up the rumormongering. Ichigo and Chad settled by the windows, with Chad at the very back and Ichigo on the seat in front of him. Orihime got distracted when Chizuru tried to catch her attention. By the time she remembered Ichigo, everyone had gone back to their own little groups, keeping their whispers to themselves.

She took a peek at the new delinquent student — maybe he has a tattoo! — and stopped.

His frown was gone. He was looking out the window, not paying any attention to the students whispering heatedly about him. His expression was smooth, almost pleasant. A bird chirped, perched on the tree outside their classroom. She watched the smile that grew on his lips with fascination. And yet there was a tiredness in the corners of his eyes, and a sadness keeping his smile faint, hidden.

That day, she saw Ichigo’s tired face and wondered what could have put it there. She wondered why he frowned and pretended, just to hide the soothing calm and gentleness she could see now. Watching him sit and stare out the window with that calm, yet burdened look on his face filled Orihime with a strange kind of melancholy. In a room filled with people and a friend who sat just behind him, Ichigo looked… alone.

It made her wonder.

Seated there, on their first day of school and the day they first met, Orihime decided that she wanted to unravel the mystery of that sadness. She wanted to know what made Ichigo-kun so sad that he would hide it from the rest of the people he knew. She wanted to know… and from wanting to know, slowly grew the desire to heal it. After all, Orihime had always been a healer, even before she discovered her Shun Shun Rikka.

But for now, there was a new girl standing beside her, giving a doubtful look at the empty seat at her side, with dark hair spiky enough to rival that of the orange-haired guy. “Yo!” Tatsuki Arisawa greeted her, with a little salute. “Is this seat taken?”

* * *

People talked to Uryuu. They did not sit with him.

Uryuu was known for his coolheaded demeanor and his efficiency in whatever he did. If someone needed an extra pad paper, he would have it. If someone was having trouble in Math, they just had to ask him about it. When someone ripped a skirt hem and he offered to fix it, it just became something else he did well.

People talked to Uryuu, but no one had yet to brave his impersonal behavior to try to make friends. So Uryuu certainly wasn’t expecting it the day Kurosaki sat beside him and invited him to lunch.

“Hey, Ishida, right?” Uryuu looked up to find his new classmate staring him down. There was a slight furrow between his eyebrows, like his face was used to frowning. He looked uncomfortable enough, but compared to the face Uryuu usually saw him making, Kurosaki looked outright pleasant… or was at least making an effort to.

His reiatsu was making him itch.

“Kurosaki-san.” Uryuu adjusted his glasses. “What do you need?”

“Huh?” Kurosaki’s eyebrows rose with surprise. “Oh, uh, I don’t really need anything. I was just wondering… do you want to have lunch with us?”

“Lunch?” Uryuu couldn’t help it; his own eyebrows rose as he glanced at the corner of the room. He could see Sado, Inoue, and Arisawa seated together there, with Inoue sneaking looks at him while Arisawa outright stared. It looked like Honshou was there too- ready to jump Inoue and molest her. Again.

“Yeah. I mean, if you don’t want to, that’s fine…” Kurosaki trailed off as he followed Uryuu’s line of sight. He scowled, the lines on his face morphing into something scary enough to look like the punk he was rumored to be. “Oi! Chizuru!” His call snapped across the room, making the girl jump so high her glasses wobbled.

“Heeey, Ichigo!” She giggled shrilly, turning to face him. “What’s up?” She waved with a nervous flutter of her fingers; the other hand remained behind her back.

He pointed a finger at her, unimpressed. “Don’t you dare.” She squeaked from the full power of his glare.

“I-I have no idea what you’re talking about!” She could deny it all she wanted, but Uryuu noticed that she didn’t try to move towards Inoue again. Kurosaki didn’t seem to mind if she sat down beside Tatsuki though, if the way he turned back to Uryuu was any indication.

“Sorry about that. Chizuru’s not so bad, it’s just when she perverts on Orihime that she goes dumb.” Kurosaki shrugged. _Like everyone else,_ went unsaid. Inoue was certainly a, ah, gifted girl, but like every other gift those kinds of things came with their downsides. Uryuu had to admit that it was a bit surprising to see the supposed delinquent being so gallant. “So, do you want to?”

Uryuu shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. “Want to what?”

“Want to sit with us.” Kurosaki’s lips twitched into a small smile.

“Why?” Uryuu couldn’t help but ask. He knew how people saw him - cold, aloof, helpful but distant. Sometimes he even encouraged that point of view. He didn’t have the time or energy to search the whispers around him for a sympathetic ear, and if there was no one around to ask why he kept disappearing to shoot Hollows, so much the better.

…right?

So why did Kurosaki want to sit with him all of a sudden?

“Why not?” And from his expression, Kurosaki really thought that. _Why not?_ Kurosaki was distant too, Uryuu knew. Plenty of students muttered within hearing range about his scary expression, and how he always seemed to be frowning at everything. Kurosaki spoke to few people, and brushed off everyone else. And for some reason, he wanted to include Uryuu in that group of few.

Uryuu glanced at their table again. Honshou had finally settled down, striking up a conversation with Sado, and Inoue was giggling at something Arisawa said. Seated there, huddled by the windows, with the sunlight painting them with a dreamy sort of glow… it looked idealistic. Like a photo taken from a magazine, flat and artificial but with that smallest hint of possibility that invited yearning all the same.

Uryuu adjusted his glasses. The palm of his hand hid the rest of his expression from view. “I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your offer… Kurosaki-san. I’m fine where I am.”

Kurosaki’s face hardened. His lips shrank into a thin line. He shrugged, the tension rolling off his shoulders and down the line of his spine. “Alright then. Suit yourself.” He turned and trudged back to their little group, every step a tad heavier than the ones he took before. Uryu couldn’t help but think that the other felt… disappointed.

He shrugged that feeling off, turning back to his own table. There was a bag that needed mending in front of him, but for some reason he didn’t feel as eager to work on it now.

 _Why not?_ Kurosaki had asked.

Uryu pushed up his glasses and picked up a needle.

Because that sunny, peaceful world wasn’t the world he was meant to live in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I made Uryu too edgy and Orihime too ditzy. It's not that she's stupid. It's more of that mindset when you're relaxed and with friends which is different from how you think when you're studying, for example. 
> 
> The reactions to last chapter really, really, _really_ motivated me to update soon hahaha. I'm almost done with the first time Ichigo meets Rukia ;) then we've got the events between that and Ichigo's training with Urahara, which is, yay, almost completely written! I don't know if I'll skim over that in-between part, but I need to include Uryu and Ichigo's fight for sure. Mostly because their interaction will be hilarious.
> 
> Did you know that whole period of time spans 2 months in real time? ^_^


	6. A New Moon

The day the plot began started out like any other.

I woke up to the sound of my door slamming open and a deafening howl of, “ICHIGOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Instinct and long habit made me bolt, not upright, but back, bunching my legs up over me as Dad soared over where my body used to lie. A sharp kick, and he slammed into the wall at the foot of my bed. His howl cut off with a squawk of pain, and he collapsed out of sight. I let my head fall back and my feet fall onto my bed and groaned, rubbing my eyes with my palms.

“Good fucking morning,” I grumbled to myself. Somewhere at my feet Dad recovered and stood, giving me a thumbs up and some sort of enthusiastic congratulations that I ignored. When he started going on about how “PROUD OKAA-SAN WOULD BE OF OUR SO-” I grabbed the pillow under my head and threw it at his face.

“-MMFF!” He collapsed back to the floor. I let the wry smile stretch across my face while he couldn’t see and rolled my eyes.

“’Morning to you too, Dad.” I got up and stretched, yawning, and left him blabbering his nonsense in my room.

There’s no avoiding Dad’s morning calls. I tried for years: every alarm I set he beat to waking me; and any attempt to outsmart him he would defeat. It became a sort of game for us, in the end. Sometimes I would sleep in my closet (thank you, Rukia-I-haven’t-met-yet) and surprise him when he burst in. Other days I would buy a bunch of rubber string from the hardware store and booby trap my room. One memorable morning had me waking up to Dad weeping over the Legos I borrowed from Karin and scattered on the floor. We had a silent agreement not to involve the twins and avoid injuries beyond bruises and Lego pockmarks, but other than that it was a free-for-all.

If it weren’t for the ridiculous hours Dad kept - the time varied between 6 to 8, sometimes earlier if I had a field trip or something that day - it would have even been fun. I could see why Ichigo would have hated it, but every parent had their own way of showing love to their children, and this was Dad’s - Isshin’s - way of doing it. He worked hard for his kids, went to all our school assemblies, and made sure we had dinner together as much as possible. He wasn’t the most sensitive guy on the block, but he did his best. It was something a teenager probably wouldn’t have seen.

Especially if his dad insisted on trying to beat him up in the oddest hours of the day. The fact that he was a doctor just made the irony more complete.

Or maybe I just missed-

_(Don’t think about them.)_

By the time I finished my bath and made it downstairs, Karin was already awake and on her way to have a turn with the shower. I went to the kitchen to heat the breakfast I’d prepared the night before, while Dad went for the utensils and started to set the table. We worked in companionable silence, broken by a few questions about his work and enthusiastic stories about his patients for the day. Soon enough, Karin and Yuzu were dressed and ready, so we all sat down to eat.

We left our Dad at home to man the clinic while we headed for school. I walked the twins halfway there, before we had to split as I went one way and they, the other.

It was a good day. I aced the difficult kanji test we had last week, and our teacher commended my essay in English class. English was no big deal - past life benefits, yay! Same with Math. I had far more trouble studying for Japanese and History class. Japanese language and history were all new to me, so I actually had to study for those.

I stayed behind to help clean up the classroom. Tatsuki and Orihime stayed behind as well, since Orihime had to talk to an admin about her scholarship and it was Tatsuki’s turn to clean the board. To be honest, I was kind of relieved. I knew Orihime had a crush on Ichigo, and from what I could see it was true here too, considering the number of times I’ve caught her staring at me. The way she stuttered around me made me just as jittery as she was, and left everyone in the vicinity feeling awkward and trying not to run away.

“Oi, Ichigo!” I looked up from emptying the dustpan into the trash to find Tatsuki with Orihime by the door. She waved, then jerked a hand over her shoulder. “Orihime and I are heading off. You wanna walk with us, or you gonna go on your own?”

“I’ll stay behind. I have to finish up here, and I still have to pass by the grocery for tomorrow’s dinner.” I made a shooing motion with my free hand. “You guys go on ahead.”

“Yeah, okay. Just don’t get in trouble, _delinquent._ ” Tatsuki grinned, shooting me a two fingered salute. I gave her a mock glare in reply.

“It’s not my fault people keep trying to beat me up for my hair!” I protested. Tatsuki only cackled. It was an old argument, and we played it like two kids with their favorite ball.

“Just remember to guard your left side, and give them the good old swing!” She demonstrated, throwing a punch at thin air then launching into a kick. Her laughter echoed behind her as she disappeared out the door.

“A-ah, see you around, Kurosaki-kun!” Orihime managed a second of eye contact, before giving a hasty bow and bolting out the door after her best friend.

“See you,” I replied half-heartedly. I dumped the last of the dirt into the trashbin with a sigh, stretching out the kinks in my back while I was at it. Being tall had its benefits, like the ability to look down on anyone who tried to pull shit around you, but it also had its downsides, like bending over every time you had to sweep the floor. Geez. This was why I left the house cleaning to Karin. What I wouldn’t give for my old body ba…

I shrugged the thought off like a well-worn coat and grabbed my things. It’s true that I had to pass by the groceries for more food, and, yeah, it was another excuse to avoid walking home with Orihime, but there was another reason I didn’t like walking home with company.

It’s a lot harder to tell the ghosts from the living in the dark.

“Ichigooooooooo!” A braided brunette waved enthusiastically at me from the top of a garden wall. My lips twitched into a grin before I forced them into Ichigo’s trademark scowl again. The girl pouted, jumping down onto the road and to my side. Her ruffled blouse fluttered at the movement. “Aww, you’re frowning again! Come on, give us a smile.” She beamed, leading by example.

I shook my head and let my expression loosen a little. “Hey, Miyuki. Still staying on?” I raised my head to look her in the eye, only to yelp and scramble back from a pair of pursed lips too close to my face. “What the _hell_?” She burst out laughing, clapping her hands in delight.

“I swear, you make the best faces when you’re surprised, Ichigo!” She stuck her tongue out at me, then leaned against the wall, her hands behind her back and legs crossed. I raised an eyebrow at her, unimpressed by her faux-innocent expression.

“I told you, I’m not into that kind of stuff,” I said dryly. “Besides, you’re also kind of dead?” I pointed at the faded haze where her feet were supposed to be.

From the little I could observe, it took different levels of spiritual senses to be able to see certain things. The last time I saw the slightest hint of a Hollow was from a suspicious-looking gas explosion on the news when I was twelve. I had never even seen a flash of black shihakusho from the corner of my eye, even though I knew that they existed. Karin could only differentiate ghosts from the living by checking their feet, and yet it was getting harder and harder for me to tell if that man’s shoes were transparent or not. I was starting to rely more frequently on checking their chests for a blurry gray line, or what could only be their Chain of Fate. It’s a lot harder than it sounds. The few Chains I could see were always cut, never bound.

“How insensitive, Ichigo! What kind of gentleman just tells a lady that they’re dead?” Miyuki wailed, pressing a hand to her heart and the other to her forehead. I snorted, ruining her dramatic act.

“You’ve known you were dead since the day I met you!” I told her. She pouted, unable to deny that. I glanced at the sky, noting the reddening skies from the setting sun. “Hey, look, I can’t stay long today, I have to go cook dinner.” I saw her face fall, and whipped out the flowers from my grocery bag before she started crying on me or something. “I’ll be back tomorrow, I swear!”

“Flowers? For me?” Miyuki gasped, her crimson lipstick emphasizing the little ‘o’ she made with the sound. She fluttered her lashes at me, one perfectly manicured nail rising up to rest against her lips. “I’m so flattered,” she cooed, and brushed a hand down her mini-skirt while she was at it. I rolled my eyes. Save me from twenty year olds who find a hobby in teasing teenage boys.

“Whatever.” I shifted, wondering if I should way what I wanted to say. She tilted her head at me, wide-eyed with curiosity. I shrugged and just blurted it out. “…I hope your sister comes home soon.” I raised my hand to scratch my head, but dropped it when I realized that would only make me look even more awkward.

Miyuki smiled, the corners of her mouth twisting into something more real than her exuberant wailing. Her eyes looked suspiciously shiny, so I focused on setting the flowers down at her feet instead. “You’re a good boy, Ichigo,” she whispered, reaching up to give my head a pat. I winced at the weird, shivery-cold feeling that tingled from my head, down my spine, and to my toes. “Sorry!” She pressed her fingers against her lips again, eyes wide at my reaction.

“No, it’s fine.” I gave her a grin, wider this time, which made her beam and burst into high pitched giggles. I twitched. “What?”

“Oh, no! Don’t do that!” She flailed her hands at me as my smile fell. “It was brilliant! Absolutely perfect! That kind of look would send the girls fainting at your feet! Don’t take it away!”

“I told you, I’m not into that kind of stuff!” My glare wasn’t as harsh as it could be, and she knew it. She only grinned wider, clapping her hands over her giggles.

“Just you wait! When puberty hits, you’ll be _all_ over those skirts.” She swished her hips and winked at me, miming the fluttering skirts of a teenage girl.

Ugh. Puberty. I felt my lips twist in disgust at the thought. Hormones, amplified sex drive, whatever stories people told over the internet? No, no, and _no._ I shoved my hand in my pocket and pushed, making space between the cloth of my pants and my skin. The thought of navigating actual sex with- _no._ I am going to be celibate, _forever._

“Good _bye,_ Miyuki.” I gave her a pointed glare and turned for home, waving over my shoulder when she replied with her own good bye. I sighed, hunched my shoulders, and let them fall, trying to shake off my frustrations with them. It’s so easy to just… _hate_ where I was now. Sometimes I would find myself looking at Orihime and Tatsuki’s skirts with jealousy, or pausing in front of clothing stores and looking at the dresses on display. For Pete’s sake, I was in freaking _Japan_ , of all places, and I couldn’t even put on a lolita outfit!

Still, if I let myself focus on things like that then I would be driving myself insane with anger and regret. Better to ignore it and move on than to wallow and drown. And if that wasn’t the healthiest coping mechanism in the world, well, what could you do?

By the time I made it to my house, the sun was already sinking past the houses blocking the horizon. It took a little jig and a balancing act to get to my keys with groceries on hand, but I managed. I unlocked the door, took a deep breath, and ducked.

“ICHIGOOOOOOOOOOOO- ehh?” A loud crash sounded through the street as Dad met an unhappy end with the Yukimuras’ trashcan.

“Hi Dad, I’m home!” I said cheerily, unable to resist grinning at his muffled yelling behind me.

“Ichi-nii, welcome home!” I smiled and held my hands out to Yuzu, who obligingly threw her hands around me for a hug.

“Hey, Yuzu, I’m back.” I squeezed her tight before setting her down on her feet. I let her tug some of the groceries from my hands and followed her to the kitchen. “Where’s Karin?”

“Over here.” Karin popped her head out from the living room, eyes as deadpan as ever. Her poker face was even better than mine. I took a detour and passed by the sofa to give her a noogie with my much freer hands. “Hey!” She yelped, eyebrows scrunched in the epitome of indignation.

I snickered. “Just fulfilling my brotherly duties for the day!” I gave her hair one last ruffle and dodged her retaliating punch.

“Nii-chan, Karin-chan, play nice!” Yuzu called, already in the kitchen. I caught up with her, setting down my bags as she kept the groceries with the same solemnity she reserved for taking care of patients in the clinic. “Is Dad still outside?”

“Nah.” I cocked my head and listened to the sobs emanating from the front door. “He’s probably going to start crying to Mom in-”

“OH KAA-SAN! OUR SON’S REFLEXES HAVE TRULY GROWN!” Dad cried, loud enough to set the neighbor’s dog barking. I rolled my eyes and sighed in unison with Yuzu.

“That’s because you’re getting predictable in your old age,” I heard Karin reply as Yuzu finished setting away the food. I nodded my thanks and dug through the fridge for the ingredients for tonight’s dinner.

“WHAT? THAT’S A LIE! IT CAN’T BE TRUE!”

“Nope, it’s the truth,” I called, digging through the bottles. Pretty sure we still had oyster sauce here…

“KAA-SAN, OUR CHILDREN MOCK ME IN MY MISERY!” I peeked out of the fridge to find Dad prostrate against Mom’s poster again. I pressed a hand against my eyes and tried to decide whether I would roll my eyes, glare, or smile at the spectacle today. Miyuki had nothing on Dad. His flair of dramatics was the sort you weren’t sure you were irritated by or exasperatedly fond of.

“Dinner will be ready in a few minutes,” I said instead. Karin gave a noise of affirmation and ignored the miserable noises Dad was making against the poster. I sighed and turned towards the stove. At least Yuzu was being helpful.

Karin turned up the TV, in an effort to tune out Dad’s sobbing. “…witnesses say the ground shook, and knocked down the walls of several homes. The source of the explosion is still unknown…”

The knife in my hand slowed, until it hung just a few milimeters shy of the carrot on the chopping board. I found myself staring at the recording being flashed on the screen. The camera panned over a gaping hole in the side of a garden wall, revealing the simple home inside. Somehow the house had gotten away undamaged, except for four parallel gashes on one side…

“…of the house are being contacted, but it seems no one has been home since the owner, Sasagawa Miyuki, passed away…”

My hand spasmed. The knife clattered to the table, then teetered over the edge.

“ _Ichi-nii!_ ” Yuzu shrieked. I jerked back, just in time to save my toes from getting lopped off via falling kitchenware.

“Ichigo!” Just like that, Dad was leaning over the kitchen counter, scanning me from head to foot. “Are you alright?” Even Karin was shooting me a worried look over the back of the sofa.

“S-sorry,” I stammered, shaken still. I clenched my fists and tried to pull myself together.

“What happened?” Karin asked, craning her neck. “What’s wrong?” Behind her, the news anchor finished reporting, and moved on to other news.

“No… nothing. I was just surprised, that’s all.” I waved off Dad’s concern and picked up the knife. I gripped it tightly, chopping the carrot with more than enough care. Meanwhile, my mind was screaming.

That… was _definitely_ a Hollow attack. They weren’t particularly subtle, though to actually _see_ one was rare. Counting this one and the one when I was twelve, the number of times I’d seen a Hollow attack and _known_ it was one could be counted on one hand. And that was only seeing the results of an attack. I’d never even seen one in the flesh. (Which is a good thing, because otherwise, I’d be, you know, dead. _Again._ )

Did it go there to attack Miyuki? Was she okay? Or was it my fault, that I led it there?

…or did she Hollowfy after I left?

I discarded that thought as soon as I came up with it. Miyuki looked nowhere near Hollowfying when I left. I would _know_ if she was near Hollowfying.

…Right?

I transferred the sliced carrots to a plate and brought out the cabbage, deep in thought and fighting down that heavy ball in my chest that was the first signs of panic. This wasn’t the start of the plot yet, was it? I avoided ghosts like the plague, but I was pretty sure Ichigo’s trouble started with a young girl. I knew his adventures happened when he was in high school, but I didn’t know what year or when. Probably fifteen, shounen manga protagonists started out at that age, right? So- okay, so, maybe, the deadline was near. But _when?_

My lack of knowledge scared me. My memory wasn’t perfect, and a lot of it had already faded. I didn’t dare write anything down, because Dad could be a snooping little shit when he wanted to be and the members of this family were pretty good at reading English.

Yuzu could probably tell how disturbed I was, because she didn’t say anything as I finished preparing dinner. Dad had, thankfully, moved on from harassing Karin.

“Oi, Ichigo,” Karin called my attention, just as I was bringing the food to the table. Her eyes were narrowed as she squinted in my direction. I bit back a sigh; Karin had stopped calling me Ichi-nii about a year after Mom died, when her quiet and gruff personality settled in. I missed it horribly, but I never mentioned it. I was kind of terrified it would come out with a performance worthy of Papa’s “OH KAA-SAN!” rants. “You’ve got another one on you.”

I blinked, completely sidetracked, then whirled around as the words sunk in. “ _What?_ ”

I didn’t like talking to ghosts. I did my best not to pay attention to them and avoided interacting with them as much as possible. The only times I did was when I was forced to. There were those like Miyuki, particularly observant ones who noticed I could see them and nagged me into conversations. Then there were those who were… drawn to me, for lack of a better word.

They always had an eroded Chain of Fate. They almost always had them short.

A morbid part of me wondered if they subconsciously felt Ichigo’s latent well of reiatsu and were drawn to it for a good meal the moment they… Hollowfied.

I squinted at the air around me and tried to focus. How ghosts could still pass under my notice, I would never know, but sometimes if I just… _pushed…_

Slowly, an old salaryman faded into view by my shoulder. He moaned, holding up his hands in a silent plea.

“No!” I cut him off before he could finish, swiping uselessly at the air. “Out, out! I don’t run some kind of Kiki’s delivery service for ghosts! If you need a favor to move on, ask a medium!”

“But, Ichi-nii, aren’t you technically a medium?” Yuzu asked, poking her head out of the kitchen. I narrowed my eyes at her. She looked back, her blinking, doe-eyed face as innocent as they could get.

Wasn’t there that saying about “cinnamon buns” and “too pure for this world”…?

“Bah!” I shook my head, and flapped my arms around my head for good measure. The salaryman wobbled, then faded, moaning the whole time. I shuddered. “It doesn’t matter! I’ve got enough problems of my own! If I gave in to _one_ ghost now, I’d end up giving in to all of them!” Honestly? They were dead! They creeped me the hell out! Sure, you’ve got the sane ones like Miyuki, but you also had those who could only moan or weep.

Or worse. The ones who didn’t know they were dead.

I took one last look, but the salaryman didn’t show up again. That didn’t mean it was gone, but I couldn’t see it right now therefore I could pretend it didn’t exist. Sometimes I envied Karin; I had no idea how she managed to do that even if she could see them. “Dinnertime,” I snapped, and took my place at the table. Yuzu giggled as she followed with the rice. Karin was smirking as she settled beside me. I made sure to glare extra hard at them both. “ _Dad!_ ” I yelled, summoning the last member of the family from the clinic connected to our living room.

Dinner was a relatively quiet affair, mostly because I was too distracted to counter Dad’s teasing and Karin’s deadpan sarcasm. Poor Yuzu was left mediating between the two of them. I was too busy worrying about Miyuki and what it meant, to have a Hollow attack so close to home.

 _Tomorrow,_ I decided, picking up some of the chicken I’d added to the dish and putting it in my mouth. _I’ll check on her tomorrow._ It was too late to go out and do anything anyway, and if Miyuki had been… eaten, then it was too late, period.

Outside, the full moon rose into the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> somewhere, somehow, a random butterfly makes it all the way above the rooftops~


	7. Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: short anxiety attack/disassociation. Just skip the paragraph that starts with _"At the very least, that round of reality clashing with comedy"_

The next day I begged off clean-up duty, muttering some excuse about helping in the clinic. Mizuno was nice enough to agree to trade, with me covering a day of his duties for next week, and somehow managed to drag in Keigo to help too.

(Mizuno is scary. Sometimes he just feels like an ordinary little boy, then he gets an idea and starts to smile and _everyone_ starts magically following what he says. There’s an unsaid threat of ‘or else’.)

I was out the door and running before the last bell finished ringing. Unlike the usual times I met with Miyuki, the sun was still fairly high in the sky, lighting up everything in its afternoon glow. I made it to Miyuki’s house without further incident, panting as I came to a stop at the corner.

The hole was even more intimidating up close. It was wide enough that I wouldn’t be able to touch either side with my arms stretched out. It gave me a clear view of the ravaged garden inside, right up to the house with its torn up wall. There was no mistaking the fact that it looked like someone had taken a pickaxe to the wall, scratching clear, straight lines into the cement. No human could have made that. It made my skin crawl. I shivered, then shook my head. What was important was finding Miyuki. Any thought of what could have happened here could wait.

The police ribbon surrounding the hole in the wall was still there. The crowd that I had seen gathered around during last night’s telecast wasn’t, though. I moved closer, fighting back another shiver. The air felt cooler here, despite the afternoon sun still shining down. I glanced around the road then ducked under the tape, heading for the corner of the property that always seemed to be covered in shade.

I squinted. I walked along the wall, stopping shy of the hole, then back. I tried that strange pushing feeling I did last night with the salaryman ghost.

Nothing.

“Miyuki,” I hissed, glancing around again in case there was someone to see. The street was empty. There was no reply. “Miyuki!” Louder. My heart began to beat faster. “This isn’t funny, Miyuki!”

Silence.

My heart sank. Then my gut. Then my legs, until I was squatting on the ground exactly where I would always see Miyuki wait. I didn’t know what to feel. There was a bit of horror in there, surely — had she been eaten? Or had a shinigami saved her in time? Miyuki wasn’t the first ghost I’ve seen disappear, but she was the first ghost I had… befriended, to disappear.

‘Befriended’. God _dammit._

She was already dead, I told myself. There’s no need to feel bad. Maybe she moved on and you’re worrying over nothing. And if she did get eaten, the Hollow could be purified, right? She’ll end up in heaven sooner or later.

Er, Soul Society.

I shivered, in time with the shiver in the air. Somehow I had ended up curled in on myself, my hands around my knees even as I squatted in the shade. The place felt even colder now. Sure, it was almost fall, but—

Wait. The air?

Silence. Cold.

I looked up.

Turns out, Hollow masks aren’t white. They’re a pale, pale yellow, not made of porcelain, but made of _bone._ This one had a putrid grin on it, with half-moon eyes and serrated teeth opening wide to—

**_Move!_ **

I threw myself to the side, just as the Hollow smashed its face where my scrawny little ass used to be. I was not ashamed of the shriek that escaped my lips, nor the crack that came after. (Puberty is a bitch.)

There was a grating, grinding noise, then the Hollow raised its head. Its freaking _chainsaw teeth_ ground through the rocks in its mouth then spat them out. Then it grinned, showing off even _more_ teeth in little rows all the way down its throat.

**_Runrunrunrun-_ **

“Jesus fucking _shit-_ ” I scrambled to my feet and _ran._ The Hollow roared, with a glee I was hopefully only imagining. Its three pairs of clawed feet dug into the pavement, shooting it forward even as the gaping maw reached for me. I threw my hand out and grabbed an electric post as I passed by, swinging myself around the corner without losing momentum and dodging the charging Hollow at the same time. My mind was a constant stream of _shitshitshit,_ in harmony with the Hollow’s shriek of frustration as it skidded past. Dust billowed as it scrabbled to change direction.

Thankfully, the Hollow seemed to be the heavy type, or I wouldn’t have gained a block for a lead otherwise. Unfortunately, that lead didn’t last long, because there was a 300 pounds-give-or-take monster chasing after me like it was Yuletide and I was a fattened pig.

I pretty much squealed like one, so the comparison isn’t that uncalled for.

I would like to say the chase ended in a dramatic fashion, with me tripping over my feet and falling to the ground and rolling over to see my death come before me, only to be rescued — but it didn’t.

I ran and I ran, with the pounding, panting noise from the Hollow as it ran after me. Then suddenly the noise was gone, with a shriek that barely made it into the world before it was cut off. I skidded to a stop, _then_ tripped over my feet.

“ _Fuck-!_ ” I told the dirt after I kissed it.

I didn’t give myself the luxury of staying down. I whirled around, trying to see what had stopped my impending doom. This time, my heart and my gut didn’t drop. They disappeared entirely.

A small girl in a black uniform stood between me and the remains of the Hollow. She sheathed her sword, as the corpse shattered into sparkles that soon faded away. The girl looked over her shoulder, her short black hair fluttering with the movement. Large, intense eyes scanned me up and down, her head tilted slightly, considering me. I didn’t dare breathe, as if a single huff would make her fade away as well. Somewhere in the back of my head alarm bells were ringing, along with a bit of hysterical babbling.

Then she turned around and moved to leave.

Suddenly, I could move again. I scrambled to my feet, practically throwing myself forward, much like the Hollow had earlier. “Wait! R- Hey!” She was leaving. She was _leaving!_ “You! Weirdo in the kimono!” Her knees bent. Panic almost locked my throat tight. “I said _wait you black-haired sword-wielding freak!_ ”

She stumbled. My first reaction was relief. Then she turned around, her eyes wide and incredulous, and I was back to panic again.

“… _What_ did you call me?”

Then angels started singing.

No, I’m kidding. I could say Rukia sounded like faerie bells or angelic hymns, but really, her voice was just firm and strong and _oh god she was staring at me._

“I, I said-” I bit down on my lip and tried again. Angrier. Keep her attention on me, and she wouldn’t think to go away and _why is she here?!_ “I said, what the hell was that? Who are you? What’s going on? And what the hell are you doing, carrying a sword around? That’s been illegal for a hundred years!” Keep her here. Stall. Delay. Anything! “I’m not letting you leave until you explain everything to me!” I finished, unable to keep a bit of my desperation out of my tone. Like I could stop her if she tried.

She just continued to stare at me, her eyes flickering across my face. This close I could see the subtle violet tint to her eyes, something that wouldn’t have been possible in another life. She moved her face closer to mine, peering at my eyes that were definitely staring right at her. This time I jerked back as she poked her face into my personal space. “You can see me?” she asked, her tone disbelieving.

“Of course I can see you!” I made my own voice sound incredulous. “Why wouldn’t I?” Just to make sure, I checked her feet. Yep, two whole feet. For some reason, that didn’t reassure me at all.

“But that’s impossible,” she continued, almost as if she hadn’t heard me speak. She scooted closer, going on tiptoe, as if getting closer to my face would reveal anything. Her features filled my vision. “Humans can’t see shinigami. So how-”

“O-oi! Will you stop getting so close?” I pushed her back, trying to restore some semblance of personal space. Her shoulders were squishier than I thought they would be.

She blinked at me. I blinked back.

_“You PERVERT!”_

_Is it perversion if I_ _’m a girl too?_ I wondered, kissing dirt. Again. Not that Rukia would know that. Or would care. I let out a muffled groan. My head throbbed, thanks to Rukia’s perfect roundhouse kick. And the foot she was digging into the back of my head as she ranted. It was kinda hard to hear, considering the distraction the pain offered.

This clinched it. My life is now an anime. I wouldn’t be in this cliche otherwise.

“That’ll teach you to put your hands where they don’t belong!”

“It was an accident…?” I tried to say around the solid ground in my face.

She snorted, a sound you wouldn’t associate with a girl with her delicate features. “Yeah right, like I’d believe something as stupid as that!”

“Not my fault you’re so fucking short…”

“What did you say…?”

“ _It was an accident._ _”_

At the very least, that round of reality clashing with comedy got her to stay long enough for us to move to a nearby playground to talk. I fretted the whole time. Every word was meticulously chosen and at the same time blurted out with the kind of terror you’d have with throwing away a live grenade. It felt like every movement I made would make her disappear, like a wave of a hand dissipating mist. Every worry made me feel more and more disconnected, like I was moving through a dream. It was enough that it took me effort to draw myself back to reality- if it _was_ reality. I could be dreaming, after all. I-

I needed to stop thinking like that before I disconnected completely. Again.

(She was so _pivotal_ to _everything_. More than my family, more than Chad and Inoue and Ishida-)

“Sorry, what was that?” I croaked. I grimaced, then swallowed. My mouth felt dry.

She shot me a glare, still not over the previous incident, no matter how many times I apologized. “If you want to know about Hollows so badly, you should at least listen to what I have to say!”

I rubbed the heels of my palms against my eyes, then shoved my hands through my hair. I took a deep breath. “Sorry,” I said again. “I was… I was trying to remember where the park was.”

A single dark eyebrow rose. “Isn’t that it?” Rukia pointed. Sure enough, the playground was straight ahead, the colorful swings peeking through the end of the street. It was about two blocks away, with a perpendicular street to cross. She looked more than angry now - aside from the tiny spark of curiosity that was the only reason she was still following me, there was a touch of concern now too.

“…Right.” I ignored the strange look she was directing at me and walked faster, forcing her to focus on using her much shorter strides to keep up. “We can talk here.”

It was interesting to see her shed her suspicion for curiosity when we reached the playground. I doubted they had swing sets where she came from. I let her glance around a bit, pretending not to see the way she darted to the slide and back for a peek. I sat on the swing, stretching out my long legs and leaning back with a groan. The adrenaline rush was gone, leaving me exhausted and shaky. Rukia gave the other, free swing a dubious look, before sitting down. She reminded me of a bird, perching precariously on someone’s finger.

I straightened. “Okay,” I said, rubbing my hands together. It was more to keep me alert than anything. “So. Hollows.” I looked at her expectantly.

Her eyes flickered over my shoulder. I followed her gaze towards a young mother, scolding her kid. He looked familiar. I probably saw him around Karin and Yuzu’s school. I took a guess at what Rukia was thinking. “It’s fine. People are used to seeing me talk to thin air already, I think.”

She looked back at me, her brows furrowed and her eyes narrowed in an intense and intimidating stare. I found myself inching away on my seat before I could catch myself. “What are you? Humans aren’t supposed to be able to see shinigami. It’s impossible.”

“Obviously, it isn’t, since we have legends about you,” I muttered to myself. Her eyes narrowed into slits. I glared back, and, louder, said, “I already told you, didn’t I? I’ve been able to see ghosts since I was a kid.” I ran a hand through my hair, scowling. “I already told you everything I know. Aren’t you supposed to be answering the questions around here?” She glared at me. Belatedly I remembered being rude would do me no favors in trying to keep Rukia here. I backtracked when she moved to retort. “Look. Why don’t we just play Twenty Questions so nobody argues and we’re both even.”

Her eyebrows relaxed a smidge. Her frown morphed to one of confusion. A sweat drop did not form behind my head. I guess even this world had its limits on how anime it could get. I bit back a sigh and started over. “Twenty Questions is…”

We argued for a bit whether or not my asking for her name counted. The argument ended when we agreed to start counting after she gave her name, with Rukia getting first dibs at asking. “When was the first time you saw a soul?” she snapped.

“It was-” when Mom died. The flinch was automatic; I couldn’t hide it any more than I could hide the pain the memory brought. And from the glint in her eyes, Rukia didn’t miss a thing. I licked my lips, wishing I had a bottle of water. “I was nine. I didn’t realize the little girl was a ghost until- until later.” I shook my head, then turned back to Rukia. “What’s a Hollow?”

She looked at me head on, her purple eyes searching. “You said this game included rules about honestly,” she said. “Stop lying.”

Was she always this blunt?

“My mother died.” My voice was flat. I didn’t get any satisfaction from seeing her eyes widen in surprise. “I saw the ghost and thought it was a little girl about to fall into the river. When I opened my eyes again, I was alone on the riverbank and my mother was dead.” I closed my eyes and breathed, forcing all my tension down to my closed fists. “Answer my question.”

“…Fine.” It was nice to know she wasn’t the type to press.

On the other hand, her, er, drawings were uglier than implied. Though I could at least distinguish the attempt at rabbits. In lieu of a sketchpad and crayons, she used a stick and drew on the dirt. Keeping half of my attention on her explanation — there might be things I didn’t know or were different here — I studied her face.

Rukia was… pretty. Soft skin, like smooth, powdered snow, with silky black hair that curled outward at the ends. She looked like the _yamato nadeshiko_ ideal, except someone had peeled away the softness and revealed the fierce steel underneath through her hard, violet eyes. This was the girl who was going to upend my life and leave me fighting a war that had nothing to do with me in the first place.

But that wasn’t quite true, was it? I — Ichigo — upended her life too. When Rukia met Ichigo, her powers were stolen away, leaving her to endure imprisonment, torture, and heartache. All because of a stupid, human boy who somehow ended up stealing her powers away.

If I could just _remember_ the specifics. Then I could — what? Recreate it? Wait for the universe to give me a sign? I knew for sure that Rukia and Ichigo did _not_ stop to have a chat in the middle of a playground. And yet here we were.

I watched Rukia scribble on the ground, her voice sharp and brusque. But there was also a glint in her eyes, and a softness to her lips that could have been a smile. I tried to imagine her numb and lifeless, but it just wouldn’t fit. There was a vibrancy to her that wouldn’t go away — even if she was technically already dead.

Those vibrant violet eyes met my gaze, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Understand?” she barked. I nodded.

“Hollows are dead people missing something important which is why they try to eat other people, living or dead, and you slash them to bits to send them to the other side,” I summed up, despite not having heard one word of what she had said. She scowled at me. I could already see her stamping _IDIOT_ all over my face in her head.

“How did you get chased by that Hollow?”

I remembered Miyuki’s grin as she promised to teach me how to send girls tripping all over me. I had to clear my throat before I could speak. “I was looking for a friend of mine,” I said, watching my feet as I kicked dirt instead of looking at her in the eye. “When the news came in that something happened to her house, I got worried and went to check in on her.”

“…If she was in that house, she’d already be dead.” Rukia was blunt but not insensitive. Her stare was piercing as she watched me for my reaction, but there was nothing hard about her expression. I wouldn’t say it was soft, either, but I didn’t feel pressured at least.

“Well, good thing she was already dead in the first place.” I wasn’t sure if my little huff of breath at the end was a laugh or a croak. Rukia blinked, realizing what I meant. I hesitated, unwilling to show vulnerability when we had _just met,_ but needing to ask all the same. “If… if that Hollow ate her… and you killed the Hollow… that means she’s in heaven now, right?”

“It’s Soul Society. Weren’t you listening to me earlier?” she snapped, without any bite. “Of course she’ll be there. That’s the whole point of the zanpakuto _._ ”

I couldn’t help the relieved smile that broke across my face. That’s one less thing to be worried about. This time the look Rukia gave me was more of surprise than suspicion. I managed to resist the urge to pout. I may make the effort to scowl all of the time, but that didn’t mean I didn’t know how to smile. Geez. I leaned back, my face tilted up at the sky. I gathered my memories of Miyuki in my heart, like a ball of light, then silently said good-bye. “It’s too bad,” I said, my voice light. “She’ll never get to say good-bye to her sister now.”

Rukia was silent. I glanced at her, wondering at the lack of a biting response, only to find her frowning absently at a poor shrub by the edge of the park. What did I say? No way she was so soft to be so affected by a soul passing. That wasn’t the Rukia I knew.

Wait, didn’t she have a sister at one point?

Sister.

I looked up at the darkening sky, snatched a look at my watch, and gulped. “Oh shit, I have to go.”

Her attention snapped back to me. “Go where?”

I rolled my eyes. “Go _home._ ” I stood up, leaving the swing to rock without my weight. “It’s late. My family’s going to start worrying.” The last thing I needed was for Karin or Yuzu to come looking for me. Not only would they stare at me for talking to the very spirits I swore I avoided, their reiatsu added to mine and Rukia’s might attract the kind of attention I almost died from today. I tried not to shudder at the thought.

I turned around, just in time to see Rukia make a graceful leap from her seat and land lightly on her toes. The sand didn’t even stir — and it wasn’t because she was a spirit. Her swing creaked as it swung in the still air.

I tried not to think of ghost stories with swinging swings in empty playgrounds and high pitched giggles.

“Very well then. Lead the way.”

I did a double-take. “ _…Excuse me?_ ”

She tilted her head at me, her eyebrow rising. “I’m starting to think you’re a deaf in one ear. Didn’t you hear me? I said, _lead the way._ ”

_Rukia near my house a dark road a monster with a face covered in white my sisters dead dying bleeding-_

“Why?” I spluttered. “Don’t you have some Hollows to chase or something?” To think just an hour ago I was panicking over how to get her to stay. But bringing her to my _house?_

The thought of Rukia sitting in my living room gave me the absurd urge to laugh. Her irritated expression killed that urge.

“Did you seriously think I just stopped by to have a chat?” She jabbed a finger at my chest. “Normal humans can’t see Shinigami. Those with the highest reiatsu level might be able to see a Plus on a good day. Your presence alone could be the reason for the heightened Hollow activity here recently! At the very least I should report it to Soul Society-”

“ _No!_ ” My hand shot out, grabbing her around the wrist. Faster than I could blink, I was upside down and in the air. Muscle memory made sure I hit the ground and rolled, until I ended up on one knee.

_Shhk!_

I was gaping at the point of her sword the moment the world turned upright on me again.

“So, you _do_ have something to hide,” she said, grinning at my dumbfounded look.

“Uh, _no?_ ” I held up my hands in surrender, hyper-aware of the _very_ sharp blade pointed at my nose. “Look, you can’t- I mean-” I let out a noise of frustration. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart and the adrenaline rushing through my veins. When I felt less like punching something and more like talking, I opened my eyes and gave Rukia my best determined — and _sincere —_ expression. “Look. My sisters can barely see spirits. My dad has about the spiritual sensitivity of a doornail.” Something inside me twinged, but I ignored it. “If the fact that I can see you is really so strange, I don’t want to bring them into it.”

There was another reason. Something I was forgetting, niggling at the back of my head.

…Something about dad.

Goddamn frail human memory recovery systems.

“How do you even know the Hollow thing is my fault? Can’t you at least wait and see if you’re right before rushing to your bosses about this?” I added, doing my best to hide just how frantic I was.

Rukia’s eyes narrowed. Her lips thinned. She raised her sword. I tensed — except she turned it around and sheathed it. Slowly, like speaking to an idiot, she said, “Hollows feed on reiatsu. To be able to see me, you’d have to have the reiatsu density of _at least_ eight Pluses. I’m going with you to make sure you don’t attract a Hollow looking for its dinner on your way back. And I’m going to report it to Soul Society so that the next time they send someone here, they know to stay away from you and keep an eye out for Hollows appearing around you.”

“…Oh.” When she put it that way, it sounded really sensible. I sat, the tension rushing out of my bones and turning them into rubber. “Uhh… oops?”

This time it was her turn to roll her eyes. “Get up, you idiot, before it gets dark. Weren’t you the one so worried about getting home late?”

“Right, right…” I fought back the flush threatening my cheeks and jumped back on my feet. I rubbed a hand over my face, trying to get my customary scowl back. From the unimpressed look on Rukia’s face, it wasn’t working very well. I wasn’t all that surprised. It felt more like an embarrassed cringe.

I needed to remember that there was a _yet_ attached to my “It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you.”

I started walking, hoping she wouldn’t comment. The snort from behind me and the sound of footsteps joining mine rid me of _that_ particular delusion.  For a moment, I completely forgot about Hollows and wars and the future that hung over my head. I was just a teenager who made a fool out of herself in front of somebody else.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated giving Rukia an old-fashioned-way-of-talking voice, for worldbuilding’s sake. It really, really just doesn’t suit her.
> 
> On another note, Rukia really gets the short end of the stick in the first season. Mysterious Girl Gets Spotlight Stolen By Shounen Protagonist! Or something. It makes me sad, because the next time we see her with a weapon she’s taking names and kicking ass. There’s no way that happened in the few months that passed after Ichigo crashed through Soul Society. Besides, Ukitake mentions he'd have promoted Rukia long before, if her brother hadn't stopped him. So badass Rukia, whoop!


	8. End of

The walk back home was tame. Rukia’s footsteps were barely a whisper on the ground, and she didn’t try to start up a conversation again. I almost forgot she was even there.

I broke the silence when we were almost to the clinic. The sky had grown dark by that point, with just the palest shade of orange on the horizon. “Just so you know,” I told her, “My dad might try to attack me when I open my door. Try not to point your sword at his face, okay?”

She gave me the familiar look that screamed _what the fuck is wrong with your dad?_ I saw it every time someone new came over. More often than not, they made that expression more than once.

Let’s be fair. Even the regulars still shoot me those kinds of looks sometimes. Chad is, by far, the most subtle about it.

Today, Dad decided to be creative. He didn’t attack me at the door. He attacked me from the kitchen.

“I’m home-”

“ICHIGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

I sidestepped his flying hug, leaving him to pass through Rukia and crash into the sofa. From the dumbfounded look in her face, it was neither pleasant nor appreciated. “What the hell-” she started above Dad’s gross sobbing noises.

I winced, then plastered on an exasperated look as Yuzu peeked into the room. “Ichi-nii! Welcome home!” Her eyes skipped right over Rukia and onto Dad. She put her hands on her hips and glared, looking so much like Mom I lost my breath for a moment. “Dad! You’re supposed to be helping me make dinner!”

That brought me out of my reverie. “You’re making dinner?” I asked, surprised. Usually the family waited until I got home, which was I always did my best to get back on time.

Her smile was warm. “You seemed really upset yesterday,” she said, relaxing from her angry stance. “And Keigo-san and Mizuno-san said you left school early when they dropped off the assignments you left behind. So I thought I could make dinner so there was one less thing for you to worry about.” Misreading my expression, she added with a pout, “I’m a big girl now, you know! I know how to handle a stove! Dad was just helping because he got all sappy again and started crying on me.”

I dropped my backpack on the kitchen table and swooped her up into a tight hug. She yelped, legs swinging in midair, and threw her arms around my neck to keep from falling. “I-Ichi-nii?!”

I buried my face in her shoulder for a second, before pulling back to look her in the eye. “You’re the sweetest sister to have ever graced the Earth,” I told her. A bright flush stole over her cheeks, only deepening as I kissed her on the forehead. “Thank you. I appreciate it. I’m fine, though.” Now, at least. Or was it for now? I hoped the grimace I made at that thought was out of Yuzu’s sight as I put her down. “Where’s Karin?”

“U-upstairs,” Yuzu stammered, patting her duster down and pulling herself together. Then she beamed, her smile brighter than usual, like the stars just came down from the heavens and offered her a dance. “She escaped to her room when Dad butted in on my cooking.”

“I did _not_ escape.” Apparently, the commotion made it all the way upstairs. Karin walked downstairs with a scowl, the pencil forgotten behind her ear telling me all I needed to know about what she had been up to. “I _left._ ”

“Sure, Karin-chan,” Yuzu said, her voice still as cheerful. Karin turned her scowl in her direction, this time looking suspicious. Yuzu didn’t even twitch.

I applauded her inside my head. I always appreciated subtle sarcasm the most.

“So where’s dinner?” I asked, giving Dad an amused glance as he finally twisted himself out of the couch cushions. “Dad didn’t burn it, did he?”

“Ichigo! How could you be so cruel!” he wailed.

Yuzu made a strangled gasp, her hand flying over her lips. “Oh no! The katsu is still on the stove!” She dashed back to the kitchen. Laughing, I ruffled Karin’s hair, dodging the retaliating slap.

“Hey.” I blinked, turning towards Rukia, who had retreated to a corner of our living room. Her face was unreadable, arms crossed as she waited. When our eyes met, she jerked her head towards the door, the universal sign of _get over here_ loud and clear.

I looked down at Karin. She stared back at me, confusion stilling her half-hearted protests. “What?”

Usually Karin was the more astute of us. I could see ghosts better than anyone in the family, but she would notice them before even I could.

She had made no reaction that showed she had noticed the shinigami.

“Nothing.” I gave her one more hair ruffle — she managed to hit me this time, with a jab to my ribs. “ _Ow._ Look, I gotta go out for a sec. Call me when dinner’s ready.”

She gave me an incredulous look. “But you just got here!”

“I know, I know!” I said hastily. “I just- I gotta-” I glanced around, looking for an excuse. Rukia began to tap her foot, her eyebrows meeting in a scowl. “I need to make a phone call,” I blurted, patting the pocket with my cell phone in it. Oh shit, I’d completely forgotten it was there. Here’s to hoping I didn’t crack it in my fall. “I don’t need you or Dad’s crazy antics interrupting anything-”

“Why?” Somehow Dad managed to sneak up on me and land an arm around my shoulders. “Ooh, is it a secret rendezvous? A girlfriend? My Ichigo is all grown up-!”

“ _No!_ ” This time I _did_ retaliate, elbowing him in the gut then following up with an elbow to his back as he bent over. He went down with a wheeze. I ignored the burning in my face — it was a redhead thing Yuzu and I shared — and bolted for the door. “I’mgoingtocallMizunoandsaythanksforbringingmystuffoverBYE!”

I slammed the door behind me with a sigh of relief. The irony was, it _was_ technically a secret rendezvous, and if Dad had put a space in that sentence it would be with a girl friend too. Or at least girl acquaintance. What a mess.

Rukia was waiting for me outside, her brow furrowed. “Sorry about that,” I said, trying to gauge her mood. “We’re a bit of a wild bunch, thanks to Dad.”

She made a considering noise in the back of her throat, but said nothing. I watched her impassive expression, unsure of how to handle this pensive version of Rukia in front of me. “What are you going to do now?” I asked, when she didn’t reply.

That stirred her out of whatever mental cocktail she had been brewing in. “I’m going back to my patrol. There’s another Hollow in the area aside from the one that chased after you. I still need to hunt it down.”

I braced myself for that rush of panic that hit me earlier at the thought of Rukia leaving. There was no point. My anxiety had pretty much peaked at an eternal buzzing behind my chest.

_What about the Plot? What about the Plot? What about the Plot?_ my mind shrieked. But the plot was well and truly screwed with, and there was no reason for me to delay Rukia without her getting suspicious.

A smaller, more rebellious part of me asked why I should even care about the Plot. Soul Society, Aizen, Hollows… they were all so far away. Concepts. Ideas. If Rukia never lost her powers, Urahara would never hide that magic thingy in her soul, and Aizen would have no reason to target Karakura Town. Or if he did, the Shinigami would evacuate it again, or it’ll be 50 years into the future and I’d be old and gray and not give a damn.

That taut, buzzing string loosened. Just a little. I felt like I could breathe again, even though I’d been breathing just fine.

“Oh.” Rukia was staring at me again. “What are you going to do after that?” I tried.

Her eyes narrowed. “Why do you care?”

“I-” Now that my worries were — not gone, just loose — I found space to let in curiosity.

In spite of the circle of friends I had surrounded myself with, I never really felt close to… anyone. Ishida and Inoue I talked to but never more than that; and Tatsuki, I had grown away from. Of all of Ichigo’s friends, I was closest to Chad, and we weren’t really one to talk. We enjoyed each other’s company, and watched each other’s backs in a fight. He was exactly like his fictional counterpart, except his counterpart never showed his surprisinly soft smile for such a large guy, his gentle way with children, his refusal to cook paella without the best ingredients he could find, and his quiet that still felt so open as I talked about the latest shit Dad pulled that morning.

There was so much I wanted to ask Rukia. She was _centuries_ old. Just the knowledge she was sure to have about spirits made me want to sit her down and babble until she answered. I wanted to plunder her knowledge of spirits. I wanted to know what Soul Society was like, how it felt like to swing a sword and meet a creature meant to be the reflection of your soul.

It was, I realized, a little… thrilling, to feel curious again. In a life where I knew people before I even met them, it was… it felt…

New.

“I just have so many questions,” I blurted. “I was hoping- well, it doesn’t matter anyway- but maybe-” Her stare was starting to unnerve me. I felt the flush rising higher on my face. “Look. How about after you finish your patrol, you come back? You can stay in my room — I have a spare futon in there somewhere — and we can play Twenty Questions some more?” How long _had_ Rukia originally intended to stay? I knew she ended up staying longer because she needed to recover her power. But where had she been spending her nights before living with Ichigo?

Rukia’s left eyebrow rose to meet her hairline. It was an impressive expression of incredulity. It could make a full-grown man feel small. “I just haven’t had anyone to talk to about this,” I said, exasperation coloring my tone. “All the ghosts I’ve seen were human and recently dead. God knows they know just as much as I do about this supernatural shit. And of course my sisters know even less, considering I’m better at seeing ghosts than either of them.”

At least her incredulous look stopped. She crossed her arms, nose wrinkling as she thought. For a moment, she almost looked… regretful? That expression disappeared under a look so steely I decided I imagined it. “Shinigami aren’t supposed to interfere with humans,” she said. Every word was clipped, efficient. No syllable wasted. I felt my expression go flat, shock erasing the little comfort I had somehow found in her company. “You’re lucky enough that I found you before you got eaten by that Hollow. Cherish the experience of being honored with my presence and satisfy yourself with that, _human._ ”

I couldn’t help the little snort that escaped me at that point, still too thunderstruck to control my reactions. She glared, chin going up and stance widening, as if to dare me to say more. To be honest, I couldn’t even if I wanted to.

“ _And_ you’re 380 years too early for me to even consider humoring an invitation like that.”

For some reason, _that_ was what kicked me out of my stupor. “Wha- holy fuck, _it_ _’s not like that!_ ” I yelled, officially red as a beet and regretting every moment of my life that led up to this.

Her eyes narrowed. With a loud hiss, she drew her sword and snapped it to the side, ready to strike. I yelped and flailed, trying to get a handle on how suddenly our interaction had changed. “Wait, Rukia- I swear it’s not- _wait!_ ”

She flipped her sword and attacked.

The front door cracked open. “Ichi-nii?” Yuzu poked her head out the door, giving me a doubtful look. “Why are you squatting on the ground like that?”

Slowly, I peeked out of my curled up position. Rukia had her back turned to me, her shoulders shaking in badly-hidden snickering. At my side, the salary man from last night sank into a circle of light, a peaceful expression on his face.

I turned back toward Yuzu. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said flatly.

For someone who was supposed to be sweet, she sure could pull a great _I call bullshit_ face. “Stop yelling at Mizuno-san and come in already,” she said. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Alright, alright, I get it, I get it.” I got to my feet and dusted myself off, butt and pride sore. “Five minutes.”

This time her expression was her particular brand of _or else._ Finally, she slammed the door shut. I turned to Rukia, who had managed to pull herself together and was back in her cool, composed state. “Was that- what did you do to that ghost?” I asked, waving at where the salary man had been.

“It’s called konsou,” she replied, crossing her arms. “I told you, didn’t I? It’s a Shinigami’s job to send souls to Soul Society. Some of them just need help passing on, like that Plus Soul you had hanging around you.”

“That’s amazing.” I thought of all the ghosts I’ve passed by, too scared to say hi or comfort people nobody else could see. It always, _always_ left me with a bitter taste in my mouth. To feel so alone and yet be unable to move on… “I wish I could help people like that.”

Rukia gave me a scrutinizing look. “Do spirits follow you around often?”

I shook my head, ruffling my own hair. “It’s not exactly… often. But it happens.” I shoved my hands in my pockets, thinking. Miyuki had been so sad, just waiting for her sister to come back. Just so she could say good bye. And there were at least half a dozen other ghosts I could think of that could use some help passing on. Maybe, if Rukia and I worked together… “Hey, Rukia? Want me to show you where some other…” What word did she use? “Plus Souls are? I could take a message and then you could help them move on.”

Her eyebrows rose, then fell. She looked up at the sky, her lips thinning. “No,” she said at last. “I can find them on my own. I’ve already spent too much time here as it is.” She murmured the last part to herself, making me feel like it’s something I shouldn’t have heard.

My eyes widened. “Wait-”

I caught the smirk on her lips before she turned around to leave. “Good bye, Ichigo Kurosaki.”

With a soft rush of wind, she was gone.

I stared at the spot where she used to be, long enough for Yuzu to stick her head outside and start scolding me for making them wait for dinner.

* * *

I wish I could say that that was the anti-climatic end to my supernatural life. But, as it turns out, if you’re a chronic worrier, you can be a chronic worrier about anything. Including dead midget girls you only met a few hours ago.

I went back to school hollow-eyed (ha!) and ready to kill for a jug of coffee. I could barely concentrate on my homework last night, and stayed up til 3 am tossing and turning. Thoughts of Rukia filled my head, from wondering where she slept to if she even slept. Is she dead? Is she dying? Did she go back home? Will I ever (never) see her again?

Hell, I should be relieved she was gone. I barely know her after all. And, sure, I would have loved to learn about Soul Society, but I wouldn’t be forever _miserable_ if I never knew about it.

That’s right. I’ll get over it. And there’s no point in worrying, because Rukia is a perfectly capable shinigami who doesn’t need a mother hen of a human toddling after her.

Now if I could just get rid of my splitting headache.

Chad cottoned on to the fact that my scowl was actually sincere today, and stuck to me with a gentler quiet than usual. I had no idea how he did it, but it soothed the thing rattling in my chest just a little. Everyone else gave me terrified looks as usual. Or maybe more than usual. Even the teachers were flinching today. Chizuru kept her hands to herself during lunch time, which was the biggest surprise of the day.

Until I backed my chair onto Inoue’s leg.

“Oh!” Down she went, as easy as if I had pulled the chair out from under her. The cry of pain wasn’t missed by the rest of the class. Just like that, Inoue was surrounded, worried tones being sent her way while reproving glares were sent mine – because the only people who could hate Inoue were those that didn’t know her at all.

It took me a couple of seconds to react. I hadn’t backed my chair into her that hard. Inoue had a black belt in karate and was used to taking beatings when her opponents stopped underestimating her. She’d had worse than that love tap, and yet she went down. Hard.

I pulled myself together and got to pulling the crowd apart. “Move it,” I snapped towards a particularly stubborn girl.

“Y-you can’t get away with violence in the school!” she blurted, her voice stuttering at the edges. To her credit, she stayed between me and Inoue despite the glare I leveled her way.

I shifted my eyebrow into a silent, _are you stupid?_ “My dad is a doctor,” I reminded her, with a tone to emphasize said eyebrow raise. “I’m going to help her.” And, just in case she didn’t get it, I added, “Idiot.”

Her face turned a blotchy red. She stepped away.

Inoue was busy reassuring Tatsuki with that everlasting smile of hers. That didn’t stop me or Tatsuki from noting the careful angle she rested her leg, knee bent just right and her muscles forcibly relaxed.

“Inoue,” I said.

Startled, she turned to me, her cheeks turning pink. “Kurosaki-kun!”

I forced my expression to soften and squatted to her level. “Let me see it.”

Her blush darkened. “Oh, no, it’s fine, it’s my fault I’m so clumsy anyway, ahahahaha!” She pulled her legs closer, then stopped, her smile faltering but a moment. Tatsuki and I shared a look.

“Come on, Orihime, let Ichigo take a look at it,” Tatsuki said, taking over the role of cajoling her. I stayed where I was, drawing on the patience I needed when dealing with dad’s skittier patients. “There’s obviously something wrong – no, don’t even try pretending, it’s obvious – so just let him roll down your sock before I do it for you.” Inoue opened her mouth to protest. Tatsuki’s expression turned sly. “Or maybe you want him to-”

“Finefinefinefine!” Inoue squeaked, flailing her arms in front of Tatsuki’s face to stop whatever she was about to say.

I wanted to crawl into a hole. Damn Tatsuki, making the act of touching a sock feel like a sin. Now I could only feel awkward as I placed a hand on Inoue’s ankle as lightly as possible. “Alright?” I asked her, just in case. People were muttering around us already; I wanted it to be clear I wasn’t forcing anything on her. My reputation didn’t need any help to get worse.

Inoue covered her face with both hands but nodded. Her bright blue eyes watched me from between her fingers as I rolled down her sock.

And froze.

A large handprint, larger than even Chad’s, wrapped red fingers around her leg. It went all the way around her shin, and stretched from knee to ankle.

My mind whispered to me.

“K… Kurosaki-kun?”

I smiled at Inoue. She lowered her hands, her smile falling with them. She looked worried – stupid, the point was to stop her from worrying. “It’s nothing,” I said lightly. “Just a bruise. Bad luck I hit it – sorry.” I put her foot down.

Now even Tatsuki was looking at me weird. I ignored them both and glanced around the room. Most of the crowd had dissipated at my diagnosis, which I was grateful for. It let me meet eyes with the person I was searching for.

Whispers in my head and buzzing under my skin…

“Get Ishida to walk you to the clinic,” I said aloud, startling the girls in front of me. “It’ll be better if you stay off it for the rest of the day. Ask them for some ice while you’re at it.”

The person I was staring at spluttered. “Why-” He cut himself off before anything he said could sound like a protest. Ishida pushed his glasses up his nose instead, trying to hide his expression.

“Why don’t you do it?” Tatsuki demanded, her brow furrowed. I didn’t miss the way she kept her hand on Inoue’s back, helping her stay upright.

I gave her the best deadpan look I could make at the moment. “If I brought her to the clinic, the first thing they’d think would be I was the one who hurt her.”

“Kurosaki-kun would never-!” My eyes snapped to Inoue, who turned bright red and flailed again. “I- I mean, there’s not- you wouldn’t-”

“They don’t know that.” I kept my voice as dry as possible. “Ishida looks properly responsible, so they wouldn’t question him.”

More spluttering from behind me.

“Also, he’s the class president,” I added.

Tatsuki’s eyes narrowed. “Ichigo-”

Bless the teacher, she chose that moment to enter. “Kurosaki-kun? Inoue-kun? What’s going on here?”

I dropped Inoue’s foot – gently – and stood. “Inoue hurt her leg,” I said, not looking at any of the people involved. “Ishida was just about to bring her to the clinic.”

The teacher shot me a suspicious look, then turned to Ishida. “Oh, that’s very kind of you, Ishida-kun.”

I didn’t cross my fingers.

Ishida adjusted his glasses, but nodded. “I am merely fulfilling my duties,” he said.

I breathed out.

Afterwards the teacher insisted we return to our seats and start the class. This meant that Tatsuki could only shoot a _we_ _’re not done here_ look my way. It also meant that no one could see my hands shaking, so bad that I could barely write the kanji for my name on our quiz.

Just because the Plot had passed me by – I thought to myself, staring blankly at wobbly kanji and a hand that couldn’t put enough pressure on the pen to write numbers – doesn’t mean that it’s passed those around me.

My mind screamed.

* * *

 

I spent the rest of the afternoon mapping out frantic plans, back up plans, and plans for back up plans. Inoue’s brother was a force I had no control over. I had no idea when he would appear, or how. I remembered a slumber party of some sort, and a bear. But Tatsuki had mentioned no such thing today. And I had no idea if Inoue’s brother would wait.

Changes upon changes upon changes-

It didn’t matter. All I had to do was make sure Ishida stayed with Inoue until – until how long?

Until the Hollow showed itself, of course.

I took a deep breath, and let it out, letting a shudder out with it. Stop. I needed to stop panicking. Just take it step by step.

I slipped out the door as soon as the teacher announced class ended, avoiding Tatsuki’s obvious frustration. I made a silent apology to Chad, who looked confused as hell when I ran past him out the door. First things first. I needed to ensure Ishida spent as much time with Inoue as possible, which meant somehow convincing him to walk her home.

I headed for the nurse’s clinic. The health teacher, Fushimi-sensei, looked up from his book, his hooded eyes widened in mild surprise. “Kurosaki-kun.” He greeted me. I gave him an awkward nod in reply, making sure to keep my scowl in place, though a little less intense.

“Sensei.” He was a colleague of Dad’s. We’ve worked with him before, occasionally supplying medicine when he ran out of stock or supplementing his treatment with equipment he doesn’t have. He’s even sent students for a follow-up check up to our clinic a couple of times. This meant he didn’t give me as big of a stink-eye (or quaking-in-the-knees look) as the other teachers would. “Is Inoue still here?”

“Ah, Orihime Inoue-kun, right?” He closed his book, adjusting his glasses as he swiveled in his chair to face me. “She already left.”

“She _what?_ ”

Sensei’s disapproving frown was enough to make me flush and look elsewhere. “I decided it would be best if she put weight off her foot for the rest of the day, so I sent her home,” he said. Somehow, his even tone managed to scold me about being too loud without him even saying a word.

I scowled at the hospital curtain to the left, scratching the back of my head in my agitation. “What time did she leave?” I asked, keeping my own voice polite and on a conversational level.

If anything, his frown deepened. “Just a few minutes ago, actually. I had a fairly hard time convincing her-”

Just a few minutes? Then I could still catch up!

“Right,” I said hastily. “Thanks!” I dipped into a quick bow and turned to leave.

“Kurosaki-kun.” I made a face at the door but looked back at Fushimi-sensei. He put down his book completely, weaving his fingers together on his lap as he gave me a piercing look. “Is something the matter?” When I didn’t answer, he sighed and pulled off his glasses. “Your father is a good colleague of mine.” With an impassive face but a kind voice, he said, “I know you have trouble dealing with some of the rougher students in the area. If there’s anything you need to discuss, but you can’t go to your father about, know that my door is always open to you.”

_I just found out that monsters exist and one of them is after my friend._ I ducked my head, struggling to keep Ichigo’s frown on my face. _Oh, and by the way, I can see ghosts._ “Nothing, sensei.” Of course he didn’t look convinced. This time my scowl was a little more sincere. “I keep telling everyone it’s the hair,” I growled, running a hand through said troublesome feature. “No one believes me when I tell them it’s not bleached!”

His expression didn’t change at all, but at least he decided to drop it. I did _not_ want to get into another argument about dyeing my hair. I had enough problems with it as it is. But who would Ichigo be without his hair?

Readjusting his glasses, Fushimi-sensei said, “At least take this advice and get some rest, will you? Women don’t like it when their men look haggard.” He tapped the space under his eye, then had the gall to wink at me.

It took me three seconds to realize what he meant, and by the time I did I was already halfway down the hallway. “It’s- _it_ _’s not like that, dammit!”_ I shoved my face into my hands and growled in frustration. When I looked up, a couple of students stared at me, whispering behind their hands. Ichigo’s trademark glare sent them scurrying down the stairs.

Fuck it, no time to get distracted. I bolted for the school’s entrance hall — just in time to see Inoue walk out the gate with Ishida and erase any reason to worry like I had been for the past fifteen minutes. I heaved a sigh of relief and leaned against the nearest shoe locker. That’s _one_ awkward conversation I skipped out on, at least.

I looked up.

Ishida met my eyes with a piercing gaze. I froze. His expression was too far for me to tell, but-

And then Inoue said something, pulling his attention back. I scrambled right back where I came from, too nervous to find out whatever Ishida had been thinking. It’s not like he could guess I _knew_ about Quincies from one conversation. Right? Right?

Of course, that’s when I ran into Tatsuki.

“Ichigo! There you are!” She was practically smoking at the ears. Huffing, she planted herself in front of me and matched me glare for glare.

“Look, Tatsuki,” I said, fighting to keep my voice even. “I don’t have the time for this right now.” Inoue’s brother had attacked during the night. That meant I had to figure out an excuse to either get Ishida to her house — at _night,_ for fuck’s sake — or go there myself. “So if you could just move it-”

“Don’t give me that!” She jabbed a finger at my chest, stopping me in my tracks. I turned my head up towards the ceiling and prayed for patience. Or a savior. “You had the weirdest look on your face when you helped Orihime earlier. What was that all about?” I took a deep breath, ready to spit out a lie. She pinned me down with a look. “Orihime’s my best friend,” she said, her voice lowering to a growl. “If there’s something going on with her that you know about-”

Guilt stabbed me in the gut. Of course Tatsuki was worried about Inoue. I just-

I shook my head. “You mean you don’t know what happened to her either?” Tatsuki blinked, caught off-balance.  “I was worried about the bruise, okay? Something that big wouldn’t come from falling down. But we’re not that close, so I couldn’t just ask…” I trailed off, letting Tatsuki fill in whatever blanks she wanted to.

“I think she’ll answer whatever you ask her,” Tatsuki muttered without zest. I elected to ignore that statement. “Alright,” she said at last, sighing. “You’re right. I’ll ask her about it.” I could have sighed in relief right then and there. But Tatsuki crossed her arms, her lips turned downward as she stared at me. “I was worried about you, you idiot,” she said. “You looked like you had seen a ghost.”

My lips twitched in the slightest hint of an ironic smile. I bowed my head, eyeing the plain white design of my indoor shoes. Tatsuki was… _is._ A great friend. She could read me like a book and see through whatever fronts I make. There are days when I feel like she could see right through my scowling, angry delinquent act.

It’s probably why we grew apart from our close friendship as kids. We just… drifted apart, during the time I shrank into myself and tried to pull my new self together. And the nagging fear of being outed as a fake is enough to keep me from trying to go back to the way things were. Even when I knew Tatsuki never stopped thinking of me that way.

“I didn’t want to scare Inoue,” I said, shoving my hands into my pockets. “I was ready to punch whatever did that to her in the dick.”

Not entirely a lie.

Finally, _finally,_ Tatsuki relaxed. A grin split her face, even as her eyes filled with simmering anger at the thought. “Get in line, idiot.”

I rolled my eyes. “ _Now_ will you let me go home?”

“Alright, alright!” She moved out of the way, giving me free access to the shoe lockers again.

Rubbing my forehead, I cursed the gods, the shinigami, the Hollow, all the way down to Tatsuki and back up again. I found Chad waiting for me at the lockers, a sympathetic look on his face. I gave him a soft, grateful punch to the arm and grabbed my shoes. “Bad day?”

“You have _no idea,_ ” I said with feeling. The threat of a headache from this morning was no longer a threat but a full-fledged promise, and my day was nowhere even near done yet. “Come on, let’s go home.” _Before it gets worse._

Not that I actually said that. I don’t need Murphy’s eyes on me, thanks.

* * *

 

Karin greeted me with a raised eyebrow as soon as I walked through the door. “You look like you got hit by a truck,” she said, chin resting on the back of the sofa. Behind her, an afternoon drama played out on the TV.

“I feel like I did,” I grunted, making sure to ruffle her hair while I was at it. “Yuzu and Dad?”

“The old man’s looking through some paperwork.” Karin jerked her thumb at the door connecting our home to the clinic. “Yuzu’s upstairs doing homework.”

I spared a moment to frown at the clinic door. I had managed to think up an excuse to visit Inoue by bringing some ointment for her bruise, but with Dad there… Then again, what did I expect? Get away with leaving the house without an explanation?

I sighed and ran a hand over my face. “And you?” I squinted thoughtfully at Karin. “Don’t you have soccer practice?” I tossed the possibility that she was skipping aside. Karin was a responsible girl. And smart. If she had been skipping, she wouldn’t have gone straight home.

“It got canceled. Coach went down with something.” She shrugged. “We should be back at it by tomorrow.”

“Nice.” I poked her nose, making her face wrinkle into a bigger glare than her usual deadpan look. I smirked at her irritation. “Don’t watch too much TV, it’ll ruin your brains.”

“That’s a lie.” She scoffed, rubbing her nose.

I started up the stairs. I’ll just drop my stuff off, then text Tatsuki for Inoue’s address. “And don’t forget your-”

“Homework! I know!”

I laughed softly at her aggrieved tone. Who knew I’d grow up to be such a nag?

I passed by my room to dump my bag on my bed. The sun was turning orange, just barely touching the roofs of the houses beyond my window. I paused for a moment, staring at the horizon. It took me a few seconds to realize I was looking for a robed figure leaping above the rooftops.

“Dammit.” I swore under my breath. I rubbed my eyes for good measure. I was _way_ too young for the stress to be getting to me like this.

Face it. Rukia’s gone. Your chance for adventure is gone, and you should be damn glad it is. Now all you have to do is make sure a giant snake monster doesn’t murder one of your friends in the night, and you’re golden.

Fucking hell, I needed a distraction.

I headed for my sisters’ room and knocked on the door. “Yuzu?” I called. “You there?” If there’s anything that could make me feel better, it would be my angelic little sister.

“Ichi-nii?” Her voice was muffled through the wood. “Ah, let me-” I heard her chair scrape on the floor.

“No need to get up, I’m coming in,” I told her, before swinging the door open.

“Welcome home!” She beamed up at me, pencil in hand and papers scattered in front of her. When I didn’t reply, her smile fell. “Ichi-nii?” She twisted around in her seat, confusion and alarm warring in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Above her head, a bone-white mask leered at me, its claws inches away from her face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR :^D

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up anytime!   
> [tumblr](http://fleeting-white-feathers.tumblr.com) || [fanfiction.net](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/1755261/fleeting-white-feathers)


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